L 


HIS    HOLD    GREW    SLACK    AND    HE    SLUMPED,    HEAD    FOREMOST,    TO    THE    GROUND. 

Frontispiece,  p.  223 


Flying  U  Ranch 


BY 

B.  M.  BOWER 

AUTHOR  OF 

"Chip,  of  the  Flying  U,"  "The  Range  Dwellers," 
"Lonesome  Land,"  "Good  Indian,"  "The 
Uphill  Climb,"  "The  Gringos," 
"Her  Prairie  Knight,"  etc. 


Illustrations  by 

D.  C.  HUTCHISON 


G.    W.    DILLINGHAM     COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS  NEW    YORK 


Copyright,  1912 
By  STREET  &  SMITH 


Copyright,  igi4 
By  G.  W.  DILLINGHAM  COMPANY 


Flying  U  Ranch 


jttLS  514167o 

iiRUi 


o:o:o:o:o:o:o:o:o;o;o:o:o:o^^ 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 


I.  The  Coming  of  a  Native  Son  .        .        .  7 

II.  "When  Greek  Meets  Greek"        .        .  25 

III.  Bad  News 46 

IV.  Some  Hopes 63 

V.  Sheep 74 

VI.  What  Happened  to  Andy        ...  95 

VII.  Truth  Crushed  to  Earth,  etc.          .        .  109 

VIII.  The  Dot  Outfit 125 

IX.  More  Sheep 143 

X.  The  Happy  Family  Herd  Sheep      .        .  163 

XI.  Weary  Unburdens          .        .        .        .183 

XII.  Two  of  a  Kind        .        .        .        .        .  197 

XIII.  The  Happy  Family  Learn  Something      .  214 

XIV.  Happy  Jack 223 

XV.  Oleson 230 

XVI.  The  End  of  the  Dots       .        .        .        .244 

XVII.  Good  News 256 

®®&®®®®®&8&§>eG^ 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


FACHO 

PACE 


His  bold  grew  slack  and  he  slumped,  bead  foremost,  to  tbe 

ground Frontispiece    223 

"  Oh,  it  ain't  goin'  to  do  yuh  no  good  to  buck'n  bawl "      .      .     105 

He  leaned  and  peered  intently  into  Dunk's  distorted  counte 
nance  .  211 


FLYING  U  RANCH 

CHAPTER    I 

The  Coming  of  a  Native  Son 

The  Happy  Family,  waiting  for  the  Sunday  sup 
per  call,  were  grouped  around  the  open  door  of  the 
bunk-house,  gossiping  idly  of  things  purely  local, 
when  the  Old  Man  returned  from  the  Stock  Asso 
ciation  at  Helena ;  beside  him  on  the  buggy  seat  sat 
a  stranger.  The  Old  Man  pulled  up  at  the  bunk- 
house,  the  stranger  sprang  out  over  the  wheel  with 
the  agility  which  bespoke  youthful  muscles,  and 
the  Old  Man  introduced  him  with  a  quirk  of  the 
lips: 

"This  is  Mr.  Mig-u-ell  Rapponi,  boys — a  peeler 
straight  from  the  Golden  Gate.  Throw  out  your 
war-bag  and  make  yourself  to  home,  Mig-u-ell; 
some  of  the  boys'll  show  you  where  to  bed  down." 

7 


Flying    U    Ranch 

The  Old  Man  drove  on  to  the  house  with  his  own 
luggage,  and  Happy  Jack  followed  to  take  charge 
otf  the  team;  but  the  remainder  of  the  Happy  Fam- 
Hy  unobtrusively  took  the  measure  of  the  foreign 
element.  From  his  black-and-white  horsehair  hat 
band,  with  tassels  that  swept  to  the  very  edge  of 
his  gray  hatbrim,  to  the  crimson  silk  neckerchief 
draped  over  the  pale  blue  bosom  of  his  shirt;  from 
the  beautifully  stamped  leather  cuffs,  down  to  the 
exaggerated  height  of  his  tan  boot-heels,  their  criti 
cal  eyes  swept  in  swift,  appraising  glances;  and 
unanimous  disapproval  was  the  result.  The  Happy 
Family  had  themselves  an  eye  to  picturesque  garb 
upon  occasion,  but  this  passed  even  Pink's  love  of 
display. 

"He's  some  gaudy  to  look  at,"  Irish  murmured 
under  his  breath  to  Cal  Emmett. 

"All  he  lacks  is  a  spot-light  and  a  brass  band," 
Cal  returned,  in  much  the  same  tone  with  which  a 
woman  remarks  upon  a  last  season's  hat  on  the 
head  of  a  rival. 

8 


Flying    U     Ranch 

Miguel  was  not  embarrassed  by  the  inspection. 
He  was  tall,  straight,  and  swarthily  handsome,  and 
he  stood  with  the  complacence  of  a  stage  favorite 
waiting  for  the  applause  to  cease  so  that  he  might 
speak  his  first  lines ;  and,  while  he  waited,  he  sifted 
tobacco  into  a  cigarette  paper  daintily,  with  his  little 
ringer  extended.  There  was  a  ring  upon  that  finger ; 
a  ring  with  a  moonstone  setting  as  large  and  round 
as  the  eye  of  a  startled  cat,  and  the  Happy  Family 
caught  the  pale  gleam  of  it  and  drew  a  long  breath. 
He  lighted  a  match  nonchalantly,  by  the  artfully 
simple  method  of  pinching  the  head  of  it  with  his 
fingernails,  leaned  negligently  against  the  wall  of 
the  bunk-house,  and  regarded  the  group  incuriously 
while  he  smoked. 

"Any  pretty  girls  up  this  way?"  he  inquired  lan 
guidly,  after  a  moment,  fanning  a  thin  smoke-cloud 
from  before  his  face  while  he  spoke. 

The  Happy  Family  went  prickly  hot.  The  girls 
in  that  neighborhood  were  held  in  esteem,  and  there 
was  that  in  his  tone  which  gave  offense. 

9 


Flying    U    Ranch 

"Sure,  there's  pretty  girls  here!"  Big  Medicine 
bellowed  unexpectedly,  close  beside  him.  "We're 
all  of  us  engaged  to  'em,  by  cripes !" 

Miguel  shot  an  oblique  glance  at  Big  Medicine, 
examined  the  end  of  his  cigarette,  and  gave  a  lift 
of  shoulder,  which  might  mean  anything  or  nothing, 
and  so  was  irritating  to  a  degree.  He  did  not  pur 
sue  the  subject  further,  and  so  several  belated  re 
torts  were  left  tickling  futilely  the  tongues  of  the 
Happy  Family — which  does  not  make  for  amia 
bility. 

To  a  man  they  liked  him  little,  in  spite  of  their 
easy  friendliness  with  mankind  in  general.  At 
supper  they  talked  with  him  perfunctorily,  and  co 
vertly  sneered  because  he  sprinkled  his  food  liber 
ally  with  cayenne  and  his  speech  with  Spanish  words 
pronounced  with  soft,  slurred  vowels  that  made 
them  sound  unfamiliar,  and  against  which  his  Eng 
lish  contrasted  sharply  with  its  crisp,  American 
enunciation.  He  met  their  infrequent  glances  with 
the  cool  stare  of  absolute  indifference  to  their  opin- 

10 


Flying    U     Ranch 

ion  of  him,  and  their  perfunctory  civility  with  in 
trospective  calm. 

The  next  morning,  when  there  was  riding  to  be 
done,  and  Miguel  appeared  at  the  last  moment  in 
his  working  clothes,  even  Weary,  the  sunny-hearted, 
had  an  unmistakable  curl  of  his  lip  after  the  first 
glance. 

Miguel  wore  the  hatband,  the  crimson  kerchief 
tied  loosely  with  the  point  draped  over  his  chest, 
the  stamped  leather  cuffs  and  the  tan  boots  with  the 
highest  heels  ever  built  by  the  cobbler  craft.  Also, 
the  lower  half  of  him  was  incased  in  chaps  the  like 
of  which  had  never  before  been  brought  into  Flying 
U  coulee.  Black  Angora  chaps  they  were;  long 
haired,  crinkly  to  the  very  hide,  with  three  white, 
diamond-shaped  patches  running  down  each  leg  of 
them,  and  with  the  leather  waistband  stamped  elab 
orately  to  match  the  cuffs.  The  bands  of  his  spurs 
were  two  inches  wide  and  inlaid  to  the  edge  with 
beaten  silver,  and  each  concho  was  engraved  to 
represent  a  large,  wild  rose,  with  a  golden  center. 

n 


Flying    U    Ranch 

A  dollar  laid  upon  the  rowels  would  have  left  a 
fringe  of  prongs  all  around. 

He  bent  over  his  sacked  riding  outfit,  and  undid 
it,  revealing  a  wonderful  saddle  of  stamped  leather 
inlaid  on  skirt  and  cantle  with  more  beaten  silver. 
He  straightened  the  skirts,  carefully  ignoring  the 
glances  thrown  in  his  direction,  and  swore  softly 
to  himself  when  he  discovered  where  the  leather 
had  been  scratched  through  the  canvas  wrappings 
and  the  end  of  the  silver  scroll  ripped  up.  He  drew 
out  his  bridle  and  shook  it  into  shape,  and  the  silver 
mountings  and  the  reins  of  braided  leather  with 
horsehair  tassels  made  Happy  Jack's  eyes  greedy 
with  desire.  His  blanket  was  a  scarlet  Navajo,  and 
his  rope  a  rawhide  lariat. 

Altogether,  his  splendor  when  he  was  mounted  so 
disturbed  the  fine  mental  poise  of  the  Happv  Family 
that  they  left  him  jingling  richly  off  by  himself, 
while  they  rode  closely  grouped  and  discussed  him 
acrimoniously. 

"By  gosh,  a  man  might  do  worse  than  locate  that 

12 


Flying    U    Ranch 

Native  Son  for  a  silver  mine,"  Cal  began,  eyeing 
the  interloper  scornfully.  "It's  plumb  wicked  to 
ride  around  with  all  that  wealth  and  fussy  stuff.  He 
must  'a'  robbed  a  bank  and  put  the  money  all  into 
a  riding  outfit." 

"By  golly,  he  looks  to  me  like  a  pair  uh  trays 
when  he  comes  bow-leggin'  along  with  them  white 
diamonds  on  his  legs,"  Slim  stated  solemnly. 

"And  I'll  gamble  that's  a  spot  higher  than  he 
stacks  up  in  the  cow  game,"  Pink  observed  with  the 
pessimism  which  matrimony  had  given  him.  "You 
mind  him  asking  about  bad  horses,  last  night? 
That  Lizzie-boy  never  saw  a  bad  horse ;  they  don't 
grow  'em  where  he  come  from.  What  they  don't 
know  about  riding  they  make  up  for  with  a  swell 
rig " 

"And,  oh,  mamma!  It  sure  is  a  swell  rig!" 
Weary  paid  generous  tribute.  "Only  I  will  say  old 
Banjo  reminds  me  of  an  Irish  cook  rigged  out  in 

silk  and  diamonds.    That  outfit  on  Glory,  now " 

He  sighed  enviously. 

13 


Flying    U    Ranch 

"Well,  I've  gone  up  against  a  few  real  ones  in 
my  long  and  varied  career,"  Irish  remarked  remi- 
niscently,  "and  I've  noticed  that  a  hoss  never  has 
any  respect  or  admiration  for  a  swell  rig.  When 
he  gets  real  .busy  it  ain't  the  silver  filigree  stuff  that's 
going  to  help  you  hold  connections  with  your  sad 
dle,  and  a  silver-mounted  bridle-bit  ain't  a  darned 
bit  better  than  a  plain  one." 

"Just  take  a  look  at  him!"  cried  Pink,  with  in 
tense  disgust.  "Ambling  off  there,  so  the  sun 
can  strike  all  that  silver  and  bounce  back  in  our 
eyes.  And  that  braided  lariat — I'd  sure  love  to 
see  the  pieces  if  he  ever  tries  to  anchor  anything 
bigger  than  a  yearling!" 

"Why,  you  don't  think  for  a  minute  he  could 
ever  get  out  and  rope  anything,  do  yuh?"  Irish 
laughed.  "That  there  Native  Son  throws  on  a-w-1- 
together  too  much  dog  to  really  get  out  and  do  any 
thing." 

"Aw,"  fleered  Happy  Jack,  "he  ain't  any  Natiff 
Son.  He's  a  dago!" 


Flying    U    Ranch 

"He's  got  the  earmarks  uh  both,"  Big  Medicine 
stated  authoritatively.  "I  know  'em,  by  cripes,  and 
I  know  their  ways."  He  jerked  his  thumb  toward 
the  dazzling  Miguel.  "I  can  tell  yuh  the  kinda  cow- 
puncher  he  is;  I've  saw  'em  workin'  at  it.  Haw- 
haw-haw  !  They'll  start  out  to  move  ten  or  a  dozen 
head  uh  tame  old  cows  from  one  field  to  another, 
and  there'll  be  six  or  eight  fellers,  rigged  up  like 
this  here  tray-spot,  ridin'  along,  important  as  hell, 
drivin'  them  few  cows  down  a  lane,  with  peach  trees 
on  both  sides,  by  cripes,  jingling  their  big,  silver 
spurs,  all  wearin'  fancy  chaps  to  ride  four  or  five 
miles  down  the  road.  Honest  to  grandma,  they 
call  that  punchin'  cows!  Oh,  he's  a  Native  Son, 
all  right.  I've  saw  lots  of  'em,  only  I  never  saw 
one  so  far  away  from  the  Promised  Land  before. 
That  there  looks  queer  to  me.  Natiff  Sons — the 
real  ones,  like  him — are  as  scarce  outside  Calyforny 
as  buffalo  are  right  here  in  this  coulee." 

"That's  the  way  they  do  it,  all  right,"  Irish 
agreed.  "And  then  they'll  have  a  'rodeo' " 

15 


Flying    U    Ranch 

»  — - 

"Haw-haw-haw!"  Big  Medicine  interrupted,  and 
took  up  the  tale,  which  might  have  been  entitled 
"Some  Cowpunching  I  Have  Seen." 

"They  have  them  rodeos  on  a  Sunday,  mostly, 
and  they  invite  everybody  to  it,  like  it  was  a  picnic. 
And  there'll  be  two  or  three  fellers  to  every  calf, 
all  lit  up,  like  Mig-u-ell,  over  there,  in  chaps  and 
silver  fixin's,  fussin'  around  on  horseback  in  a  cor 
ral,  and  every  feller  trying  to  pile  his  rope  on  the 
same  calf,  by  cripes!  They  stretch  'em  out  with 
two  ropes — calves,  remember!  Little,  weenty  fel 
lers  you  could  pack  under  one  arm!  Yuh  can't 
blame  'em  much.  They  never  have  more'n  thirty 
or  forty  head  to  brand  at  a  time,  and  they  never  git 
more'n  a  taste  uh  real  work.  So  they  make  the 
most  uh  what  they  git,  and  go  in  heavy  on  fancy  out 
fits.  And  this  here  silver-mounted  fellow  thinks 
he's  a  real  cowpuncher,  by  cripes !" 

The  Happy  Family  laughed  at  the  idea;  laughed 
so  loud  that  Miguel  left  his  lonely  splendor  and 
swung  over  to  them,  ostensibly  to  borrow  a  match. 

16 


Flying    U     Ranch 

"What's  the  joke?"  he  inquired  languidly,  his 
chin  thrust  out  and  his  eyes  upon  the  match  blazing 
at  the  end  of  his  cigarette. 

The  Happy  Family  hesitated  and  glanced  at  one 
another.  Then  Cal  spoke  truthfully. 

"You're  it,"  he  said  bluntly,  with  a  secret  desire 
to  test  the  temper  of  this  dark-skinned  son  of  the 
West. 

Miguel  darted  one  of  his  swift  glances  at  Cal, 
blew  out  his  match  and  threw  it  away. 

"Oh,  how  funny.  Ha-ha."  His  voice  was  soft 
and  absolutely  expressionless,  his  face  blank  of  any 
emotion  whatever.  He  merely  spoke  the  words  as 
a  machine  might  have  done. 

If  he  had  been  one  of  them,  the  Happy  Family 
would  have  laughed  at  the  whimsical  humor  of  it. 
As  it  was,  they  repressed  the  impulse,  though  Weary 
warmed  toward  him  slightly. 

"Don't  you  believe  anything  this  innocent-eyed 
gazabo  tells  you,  Mr.  Rapponi,"  he  warned  amiably. 
"He's  known  to  be  a  liar." 

17 


Flying    U     Ranch 

"That's  funny,  too.  Ha-ha  some  more."  Miguel 
permitted  a  thin  ribbon  of  smoke  to  slide  from  be 
tween  his  lips,  and  gazed  off  to  the  crinkled  line  of 
hills. 

"Sure,  it  is — now  you  mention  it,"  Weary  agreed 
after  a  perceptible  pause. 

"How  fortunate  that  I  brought  the  humor  to  your 
attention,"  drawled  Miguel,  in  the  same  expres 
sionless  tone,  much  as  if  he  were  reciting  a  text. 

"Virtue  is  its  own  penalty,"  paraphrased  Pink, 
not  stopping  to  see  whether  the  statement  applied  to 
the  subject. 

"Haw-haw-haw!"  roared  Big  Medicine,  quite  as 
irrelevantly. 

"He-he-he,"  supplemented  the  silver-trimmed  one. 

Big  Medicine  stopped  laughing  suddenly,  reined 
his  horse  close  to  the  other,  and  stared  at  him  chal- 
lengingly,  with  his  pale,  protruding  eyes,  while  the 
Happy  Family  glanced  meaningly  at  one  another. 
Big  Medicine  was  quite  as  unsafe  as  he  looked,  at 

18 


Flying    U     Ranch 

that  moment,  and  they  wondered  if  the  offender 
realized  his  precarious  situation. 

Miguel  smoked  with  the  infinite  leisure  which  is 
a  fine  art  when  it  is  not  born  of  genuine  abstraction, 
and  none  could  decide  whether  he  was  aware  of  the 
unfriendly  proximity  of  Big  Medicine.  Weary  was 
just  on  the  point  of  saying  something  to  relieve  the 
tension,  when  Miguel  blew  the  ash  gently  from  his 
cigarette  and  spoke  lazily. 

"Parrots  are  so  common,  out  on  the  Coast,  that 
they  use  them  in  cheap  restaurants  for  stew.  I've 
often  heard  them  gabbling  together  in  the  kettle." 

The  statement  was  so  ambiguous  that  the  Happy 
Family  glanced  at  him  doubtfully.  Big  Medicine's 
stare  became  more  curious  than  hostile,  and  he  per 
mitted  his  horse  to  lag  a  length.  It  is  difficult  to 
fight  absolute  passivity.  Then  Slim,  who  ever 
tramped  solidly  over  the  flowers  of  sarcasm,  blurted 
one  of  his  unexpected  retorts. 

"I  was  just  wonderin',  by  golly,  where  yuh  learnt 
to  talk!" 

19 


Flying    U     Ranch 

Miguel  turned  his  velvet  eyes  sleepily  toward 
the  speaker.  "From  the  boarders  who  ate  those  par 
rots,  amigo,"  he  smiled  serenely. 

At  this,  Slim — once  justly  accused  by  Irish  of  be 
ing  a  "single-shot"  when  it  came  to  repartee — 
turned  purple  and  dumb.  The  Happy  Family,  for 
swearing  loyalty  in  their  enjoyment  of  his  discom 
fiture,  grinned  and  left  to  Miguel  the  barren  triumph 
of  the  last  word. 

He  did  not  gain  in  popularity  as  the  days  passed. 
They  tilted  noses  at  his  beautiful  riding  gear,  and 
would  have  died  rather  than  speak  of  it  in  his  pres 
ence.  They  never  gossiped  with  him  of  horses  or 
men  or  the  lands  he  knew.  They  were  ready  to 
snub  him  at  a  moment's  notice — and  it  did  not  les 
sen  their  dislike  of  him  that  he  failed  to  yield  them 
an  opportunity.  It  is  to  be  hoped  that  he  found 
his  thoughts  sufficient  entertainment,  since  he  was 
left  to  them  as  much  as  is  humanly  possible  when 
half  a  dozen  men  eat  and  sleep  and  work  together. 
It  annoyed  them  exceedingly  that  Miguel  did  not 

20 


Flying    U     Ranch 

seem  to  know  that  they  held  him  at  a  distance;  they 
objected  to  his  manner  of  smoking  cigarettes  and 
staring  off  at  the  skyline  as  if  he  were  alone  and 
content  with  his  dreams.  When  he  did  talk  they 
listened  with  an  air  of  weary  tolerance.  When  he 
did  not  talk  they  ignored  his  presence,  and  when  he 
was  absent  they  criticized  him  mercilessly. 

They  let  him  ride  unwarned  into  an  adobe  patch 
one  day — at  least,  Big  Medicine,  Pink,  Cal  Emmett 
and  Irish  did,  for  they  were  with  him — and  laughed 
surreptitiously  together  while  he  wallowed  there 
and  came  out  afoot,  his  horse  floundering  behind 
him,  mud  to  the  ears,  both  of  them. 

"Pretty  soft  going,  along  there,  ain't  it?"  Pink 
commiserated  deceitfully. 

"It  is,  kinda,"  Miguel  responded  evenly,  scraping 
the  adobe  off  Banjo  with  a  flat  rock.  And  the  sub 
ject  was  closed. 

"Well,  it's  some  relief  to  the  eyes  to  have  the 
shine  taken  off  him,  anyway,"  Pink  observed  a  little 
guiltily  afterward. 

21 


Flying    U    Ranch 

"I  betche  he  ain't  goin'  to  forget  that,  though," 
Happy  Jack  warned  when  he  saw  the  caked  mud 
on  Miguel's  Angora  chaps  and  silver  spurs,  and  the 
condition  of  his  saddle.  "Yuh  better  watch  out  and 
not  turn  your  backs  on  him  in  the  dark,  none  uh 
you  guys.  I  betche  he  packs  a  knife.  Them  kind 
always  does." 

"Haw-haw-haw !"  bellowed  Big  Medicine  uproar 
iously.  "I'd  love  to  see  him  git  out  an*  try  to  use 
it,  by  cripes!" 

"I  wish  Andy  was  here,"  Pink  sighed.  "Andy'd 
take  the  starch  outa  him,  all  right." 

"Wouldn't  he  be  pickings  for  old  Andy,  though  ? 
Gee!"  Cal  looked  around  at  them,  with  his  wide, 
baby-blue  eyes,  and  laughed.  "Let's  kinda  jolly 
him  along,  boys,  till  Andy  gets  back.  It  sure  would 
be  great  to  watch  'em.  I'll  bet  he  can  jar  the  eter 
nal  calm  outa  that  Native  Son.  That's  what  grinds 
me  worse  than  his  throwin'  on  so  much  dog;  he's 
so  blamed  satisfied  with  himself!  You  snub  him, 
and  he  looks  at  yuh  as  if  you  was  his  hired  man — 

22 


Flying    U    Ranch 

and  then  forgets  all  about  yuh.  He  come  outa  that 
'doby  like  he'd  been  swimmin'  a  river  on  a  bet,  and 
had  made  good  and  was  a  hee-ro  right  before  the 
ladies.  Kinda  'Oh,  that's  nothing  to  what  I  could 
do  if  it  was  worth  while,'  way  he  had  with  him." 

"It  wouldn't  matter  so  much  if  he  wasn't  all 
front,"  Pink  complained.  "You'll  notice  that's  al 
ways  the  way,  though.  The  fellow  all  fussed  up 
with  silver  and  braided  leather  can't  get  out  and  do 

anything.  I  remember  up  on  Milk  river " 

Pink  trailed  off  into  absorbing  reminiscence,  which, 
however,  is  too  lengthy  to  repeat  here. 

"Say,  Mig-u-ell's  down  at  the  stable,  sweatin' 
from  every  pore  trying  to  get  his  saddle  clean,  by 
golly!"  Slim  reported  cheerfully,  just  as  Pink  was 
relighting  the  cigarette  which  had  gone  out  during 
the  big  scene  of  his  story.  "He  was  cussin'  in 
Spanish,  when  I  walked  up  to  him — but  he  shut 
up  when  he  seen  me  and  got  that  peaceful  look  uh 
hisn  on  his  face.  I  wonder,  by  golly " 

"Oh,  shut  up  and  go  awn,"  Irish  commanded 
23 


Flying    U     Ranch 

bluntly,  and  looked  at  Pink.  "Did  he  call  it  off, 
then?  Or  did  you  have  to  wade  in " 

"Naw;  he  was  like  this  here  Native  Son — all 
front.  He  could  look  sudden  death,  all  right;  he 
had  black  eyes  like  Mig-u-ell — but  all  a  fellow  had 
to  do  was  go  after  him,  and  he'd  back  up  so  blamed 
quick " 

Slim  listened  that  far,  saw  that  he  had  inter 
rupted  a  tale  evidently  more  interesting  than  any 
thing  he  could  say,  and  went  off,  muttering  to 
himself. 


24 


CHAPTER    II 

"When  Greek  Meets  Greek" 

The  next  morning,  which  was  Sunday,  the 
cachinnations  of  Big  Medicine  took  Pink  down  to 
the  creek  behind  the  bunk-house.  "What's  hurtin' 
yuh?"  he  asked  curiously,  when  he  came  to  where 
Big  Medicine  stood  in  the  fringe  of  willows,  chok 
ing  between  his  spasms  of  mirth. 

"Haw-haw-haw!"  roared  Big  Medicine;  and, 
seizing  Pink's  arm  in  a  gorilla-like  grip,  he  pointed 
down  the  bank. 

Miguel,  seated  upon  a  convenient  rock  in  a  sunny 
spot,  was  painstakingly  combing  out  the  tangled 
hair  of  his  chaps,  which  he  had  washed  quite  as 
carefully  not  long  before,  as  the  cake  of  soap  be 
side  him  testified. 

"Combing — combing — his  chaps,  by  cripes!"  Big 
Medicine  gasped,  and  waggled  his  finger  at  the 

25 


Flying    U    Ranch 

spectacle.        "Haw-haw-haw !       C-combin' — his — 
chaps!" 

Miguel  glanced  up  at  them  as  impersonally  as  if 
they  were  two  cackling  hens,  rather  than  derisive 
humans,  then  bent  his  head  over  a  stubborn  knot 
and  whistled  La  Paloma  softly  while  he  coaxed  out 
the  tangle. 

Pink's  eyes  widened  as  he  looked,  but  he  did  not 
say  anything.  He  backed  up  the  path  and  went 
thoughtfully  to  the  corrals,  leaving  Big  Medicine 
to  follow  or  not,  as  he  chose. 

"Combin' — his  chaps,  by  cripes!"  came  rum 
bling  behind  him.  Pink  turned. 

"Say!  Don't  make  so  much  noise  about  it,"  he 
advised  guardedly.  "I've  got  an  idea." 

"Yuh  want  to  hog-tie  it,  then,"  Big  Medicine  re 
torted,  resentful  because  Pink  seemed  not  to  grasp 
the  full  humor  of  the  thing.  "Idees  sure  seems  to 
be  skurce  in  this  outfit — or  that  there  lily-uh-the- 
valley  couldn't  set  and  comb  no  chaps  in  broad  day 
light,  by  cripes;  not  and  get  off  with  it." 

26 


Flying    U    Ranch 

"He's  an  ornament  to  the  Flying  U,"  Pink  stated 
dreamily.  "Us  boneheads  don't  appreciate  him,  is 
all  that  ails  us.  What  we  ought  to  do  is — help  him 
be  as  pretty  as  he  wants  to  be,  and " 

"Looky  here,  Little  One."  Big  Medicine  hurried 
his  steps  until  he  was  close  alongside.  "I  wouldn't 
give  a  punched  nickel  for  a  four-horse  load  uh  them 
idees,  and  that's  the  truth."  He  passed  Pink  and 
went  on  ahead,  disgust  in  every  line  of  his  square- 
shouldered  figure.  "Combin'  his  chaps,  by  cripes!" 
he  snorted  again,  and  straightway  told  the  tale  pro 
fanely  to  his  fellows,  who  laughed  until  they  were 
weak  and  watery-eyed  as  they  listened. 

Afterward,  because  Pink  implored  them  and 
made  a  mystery  of  it,  they  invited  Miguel  to  take 
a  hand  in  a  long-winded  game — rather,  a  series  of 
games — of  seven-up,  while  his  chaps  hung  to  dry 
upon  a  willow  by  the  creek  bank — or  so  he  be 
lieved. 

The  chaps,  however,  were  up  in  the  white-house 
kitchen,  where  were  also  the  reek  of  scorched  hair 

27 


Flying    U     Ranch 

and  the  laughing  expostulations  of  the  Little  Doc 
tor  and  the  boyish  titter  of  Pink  and  Irish,  who 
were  curling  laboriously  the  chaps  of  Miguel  with 
the  curling  tongs  of  the  Little  Doctor  and  those  of 
the  Countess  besides. 

"It's  a  shame,  and  I  just  hope  Miguel  thrashes 
you  both  for  it,"  the  Little  Doctor  told  them  more 
than  once;  but  she  laughed,  nevertheless,  and 
showed  Pink  how  to  give  the  twist  which  made 
of  each  lock  a  corkscrew  ringlet.  The  Countess 
stopped,  with  her  dishcloth  dangling  from  one  red, 
bony  hand,  while  she  looked. 

"You  boys  couldn't  sleep  nights  if  you  didn't 
pester  the  life  outa  somebody,"  she  scolded. 
"Seems  to  me  I'd  friz  them  diamonds,  if  I  was 
goin'  to  be  mean  enough  to  do  anything." 

"You  would,  eh?"  Pink  glanced  up  at  her  and 
dimpled.  "I'll  find  you  a  rich  husband  to  pay  for 
that."  He  straightway  proceeded  to  friz  the  dia 
monds  of  white. 

"Why  don't  you  have  a  strip  of  ringlets  down 
28 


Flying    U     Ranch 

each  leg,  with  tight  little  curls  between?"  suggested 
the  Little  Doctor,  not  to  be  outdone  by  any  other 
woman. 

"Correct  you  are,"  praised  Irish. 

"And,  remember,  you're  not  heating  branding- 
irons,  mister  man,"  she  added.  "You'll  burn  all 
the  hair  off,  if  you  let  the  tongs  get  red-hot.  Just 
so  they'll  sizzle;  I've  told  you  five  times  already." 
She  picked  up  the  Kid,  kissed  many  times  the 
finger  he  held  up  for  sympathy — the  finger  with 
which  he  had  touched  the  tongs  as  Pink  was  put 
ting  them  back  into  the  grate  of  the  kitchen  stove, 
and  spoke  again  to  ease  her  conscience.  "I  think 
it's  awfully  mean  of  you  to  do  it.  Miguel  ought 
to  thrash  you  both." 

"We're  dead  willing  to  let  him  try,  Mrs.  Chip. 
We  know  it's  mean.  We're  real  ashamed  of  our 
selves."  Irish  tested  his  tongs  as  he  had  been  told 
to  do.  "But  we'd  rather  be  ashamed  than  good, 
any  old  time." 

The  Little  Doctor  giggled  behind  the  Kid's 
29 


Flying    U     Ranch 

tousled  curls,  and  reached  out  a  slim  hand  once 
more  to  give  Pink's  tongs  the  expert  twist  he  was 
trying  awkwardly  to  learn.  "I'm  sorry  for  Miguel ; 
he's  got  lovely  eyes,  anyway." 

"Yes,  ain't  he?"  Pink  looked  up  briefly  from 
his  task.  "How's  your  leg,  Irish?  Mine's  done." 

"Seems  to  me  I'd  make  a  deep  border  of  them 
corkscrew  curls  all  around  the  bottoms,  if  I  was 
doin'  it,"  said  the  Countess  peevishly,  from  the 
kitchen  sink.  "If  I  was  that  dago  I'd  murder  the 
hull  outfit;  I  never  did  see  a  body  so  hectored  in 
my  life — and  him  not  ever  ketchin'  on.  He  must 
be  plumb  simple-minded." 

When  the  curling  was  done  to  the  hilarious  satis 
faction  of  Irish  and  Pink,  and,  while  Pink  was 
dancing  in  them  to  show  them  off,  another  entered 
with  mail  from  town.  And,  because  the  mail- 
bearer  was  Andy  Green  himself,  back  from  a  win 
ter's  journeyings,  Cal,  Happy  Jack  and  Slim  fol 
lowed  close  behind,  talking  all  at  once,  in  their 
joy  at  beholding  the  man  they  loved  well  and  hated 

30 


Flying    U     Ranch 

occasionally  also.  Andy  delivered  the  mail  into  the 
hands  of  the  Little  Doctor,  pinched  the  Kid's  cheek, 
and  said  how  he  had  grown  good-looking  as  his 
mother,  almost,  spoke  a  cheerful  howdy  to  the 
Countess,  and  turned  to  shake  hands  with  Pink. 
It  was  then  that  the  honest,  gray  eyes  of  him 
widened  with  amazement. 

"Well,  by  golly!"  gasped  Slim,  goggling  at  the 
chaps  of  Miguel. 

"That  there  Natiff  Son'll  just  about  kill  yuh  for 
that,"  warned  Happy  Jack,  as  mournfully  as  he 
might  with  laughing.  "He'll  knife  yuh,  sure." 

Andy,  demanding  the  meaning  of  it  all,  learned 
all  about  Miguel  Rapponi — from  the  viewpoint  of 
the  Happy  Family.  At  least,  he  learned  as  much 
as  it  was  politic  to  tell  in  the  presence  of  the  Little 
Doctor;  and  afterward,  while  Pink  was  putting  the 
chaps  back  upon  the  willow,  where  Miguel  had  left 
them,  he  was  told  that  they  looked  to  him,  Andy 
Green,  for  assistance. 

"Oh,  gosh!    You  don't  want  to  depend  on  me, 


Flying    U    Ranch 

Pink,"  Andy  expostulated  modestly.  "I  can't  think 
of  anything — and,  besides,  I've  reformed.  I  don't 
know  as  it's  any  compliment  to  me,  by  gracious — 
being  told  soon  as  I  land  that  I'm  expected  to  lie 
to  a  perfect  stranger." 

"You  come  on  down  to  the  stable  and  take  a 
look  at  his  saddle  and  bridle,"  urged  Cal.  "And 
wait  till  you  see  him  smoking  and  looking  past  you, 
as  if  you  was  an  ornery  little  peak  that  didn't  do 
nothing  but  obstruct  the  scenery.  I've  seen  mean 
cusses — lots  of  'em;  and  I've  seen  men  that  was 
stuck  on  themselves.  But  I  never " 

"Come  outa  that  'doby,"  Pink  interrupted,  "mud 
to  his  eyebrows,  just  about.  And  he  knew  darned 
well  we  headed  him  in  there  deliberate.  And  when 
I  remarks  it's  soft  going,  he  says :  'It  is,  kinda,' — 
just  like  that."  Pink  managed  to  imitate  the  lan 
guid  tone  of  Miguel  very  well.  "Not  another  word 
outa  him.  Didn't  even  make  him  mad !  He " 

"Tell  him  about  the  parrots,  Slim,"  Cal  sug- 
32 


Flying    U     Ranch 

gested  soberly.  But  Slim  only  turned  purple  at 
the  memory,  and  swore. 

"Old  Patsy  sure  has  got  it  in  for  him,"  Happy 
Jack  observed.  "He  asked  Patsy  if  he  ever  had 
enchilladas.  Patsy  won't  speak  to  him  no  more. 
He  claims  Mig-u-ell  insulted  him.  He  told  Mig-u- 
ell " 

"Enchilladas  are  sure  fine  eating,"  said  Andy. 
"I  took  to  'em  like  a  she-bear  to  honey,  down  in 
New  Mexico  this  winter.  Your  Native  Son  is  solid 
there,  all  right." 

"Aw,  gwan!  He  ain't  solid  nowhere  but  in  the 
head.  Maybe  you'll  love  him  to  death  when  yuh  see 
him — chances  is  you  will,  if  you've  took  to  eatin' 
dago  grub." 

Andy  patted  Happy  Jack  reassuringly  on  the 
shoulder.  "Don't  get  excited,"  he  soothed.  "I'll  put 
it  all  over  the  gentleman,  just  to  show  my  heart's  in 
the  right  place.  Just  this  once,  though;  I've  re 
formed.  And  I've  got  to  have  time  to  size  him  up. 
Where  do  you  keep  him  when  he  ain't  in  the  show 
window  ?"  He  swung  into  step  with  Pink.  "I'll  tell 

33 


Flying     U     Ranch 

you  the  truth,"  he  confided  engagingly.  "Any  man 
that'll  wear  chaps  like  he's  got — even  leaving  out 
the  extra  finish  you  fellows  have  given  'em — had 
ought  to  be  taught  a  lesson  he'll  remember.  He 
sure  must  be  a  tough  proposition,  if  the  whole  bunch 
of  yuh  have  had  to  give  him  up.  By  gracious " 

"We  haven't  tried,"  Pink  defended.  "It  kinda 
looked  to  us  as  if  he  was  aiming  to  make  us  guy 
him;  so  we  didn't.  We've  left  him  strictly  alone. 
To-day" — he  glanced  over  his  shoulder  to  where  the 
becurled  chaps  swung  comically  from  the  willow 
branch — "to-day's  the  first  time  anybody's  made  a 
move.  Unless,"  he  added,  as  an  afterthought,  "you 
count  yesterday  in  the  'doby  patch — and  even  then 
we  didn't  tell  him  to  ride  into  it;  we  just  let  him 
do  it." 

"And  kinda  herded  him  over  towards  it,"  Cal 
amended  slyly. 

"Can  he  ride?"  asked  Andy,  going  straight  to 
the  main  point,  in  the  mind  of  a  cowpuncher. 

"W-e-ell — he  hasn't  been  piled,  so  far.  But 
34 


Flying    U     Ranch 

then/'  Pink  qualified  hastily,  "he  hasn't  topped  any 
thing  worse  than  Crow-hop.  He  ain't  hard  to  ride. 
Happy  Jack  could " 

"Aw,  I'm  gittin'  good  and  sick  of  hearin'  that 
there  tune,"  Happy  growled  indignantly.  "Why 
don't  you  point  out  Slim  as  the  limit,  once  in  a 
while?" 

"Come  on  down  to  the  stable,  and  let's  talk  it 
over,"  Andy  suggested,  and  led  the  way.  "What's 
his  style,  anyway?  Mouthy,  or  what?" 

With  four  willing  tongues  to  enlighten  him,  it 
would  be  strange,  indeed,  if  one  so  acute  as  Andy 
Green  failed  at  last  to  have  a  very  fair  mental  pic 
ture  of  Miguel.  He  gazed  thoughtfully  at  his 
boots,  laughed  suddenly,  and  slapped  Irish  quite 
painfully  upon  the  back. 

"Come  on  up  and  introduce  me,  boys,"  he  said. 
"We'll  make  this  Native  Son  so  hungry  for  home 
— you  watch  me  put  it  on  the  gentleman.  Only 
it  does  seem  a  shame  to  do  it." 

"No,  it  ain't.  If  you'd  been  around  him  for  two 
35 


Flying    U     Ranch 

weeks,  you'd  want  to  kill  him  just  to  make  him  take 
notice,"  Irish  assured  him. 

"What  gets  me,"  Andy  mused,  "is  why  you  fel 
lows  come  crying  to  me  for  help.  I  should  think 
the  bunch  of  you  ought  to  be  able  to  handle  one 
lone  Native  Son." 

"Aw,  you're  the  biggest  liar  and  faker  in  the 
bunch,  is  why,"  Happy  Jack  blurted. 

"Oh,  I  see."  Andy  hummed  a  little  tune  and 
pushed  his  hands  deep  into  his  pockets,  and  at  the 
corners  of  his  lips  there  flickered  a  smile. 

The  Native  Son  sat  with  his  hat  tilted  slightly 
back  upon  his  head  and  a  cigarette  between  his  lips, 
and  was  reaching  lazily  for  the  trick  which  made 
the  fourth  game  his,  when  the  group  invaded  the 
bunk-house.  He  looked  up  indifferently,  swept 
Andy's  face  and  figure  with  a  glance  too  imper 
sonal  to  hold  even  a  shade  of  curiosity,  and  began 
rapidly  shuffling  his  cards  to  count  the  points  he 
had  made. 

Andy  stopped  short,  just  inside  the  door,  and 
36 


Flying    U     Ranch 

stared  hard  at  Miguel,  who  gave  no  sign.  He 
turned  his  honest,  gray  eyes  upon  Pink  and  Irish 
accusingly — whereat  they  wondered  greatly. 

"Your  deal — if  you  want  to  play,"  drawled  Mi 
guel,  and  shoved  his  cards  toward  Big  Medicine. 
But  the  boys  were  already  uptilting  chairs  to  grasp 
the  quicker  the  outstretched  hand  of  the  prodigal, 
so  that  Miguel  gathered  up  the  cards,  evened  their 
edges  mechanically,  and  deigned  another  glance  at 
this  stranger  who  was  being  welcomed  so  vocifer 
ously.  Also  he  sighed  a  bit — for  even  a  languid- 
eyed  stoic  of  a  Native  Son  may  feel  the  twinge  of 
loneliness.  Andy  shook  hands  all  round,  swore 
amiably  at  Weary,  and  advanced  finally  upon  Mi 
guel. 

"You  don't  know  me  from  Adam's  off  ox,"  he 
began  genially,  "but  I  know  you,  all  right,  all  right. 
I  hollered  my  head  off  with  the  rest  of  'em  when 
you  played  merry  hell  in  that  bull-ring,  last  Christ 
mas.  Also,  I  was  part  of  your  bodyguard  when 
them  greasers  were  trying  to  tickle  you  in  the  ribs 

37 


Flying    U     Ranch 

with  their  knives  in  that  dark  alley.  Shake,  old- 
timer!  You  done  yourself  proud,  and  I'm  glad  to 
know  yuh!" 

Miguel,  for  the  first  time  in  two  weeks,  permit 
ted  himself  the  luxury  of  an  expressive  counte 
nance.  He  gave  Andy  Green  one  quick,  grateful 
look — and  a  smile,  the  like  of  which  made  the 
Happy  Family  quiver  inwardly  with  instinctive 
sympathy. 

"So  you  were  there,  too,  eh?"  Miguel  exclaimed 
softly,  and  rose  to  greet  him.  "And  that  scrap  in 
the  alley — we  sure  had  a  hell  of  a  time  there  for 
a  few  minutes,  didn't  we?  Are  you  that  tall  fel 
low  who  kicked  that  squint-eyed  greaser  in  the 
stomach?  Muchos  gracios,  senorl  They  were  pil 
ing  on  me  three  deep,  right  then,  and  I  always  be 
lieved  they'd  have  got  me,  only  for  a  tall  vaquero 
I  couldn't  locate  afterward."  He  smiled  again  that 
wonderful  smile,  which  lighted  the  darkness  of  his 
eyes  as  with  a  flame,  and  murmured  a  sentence  or 
two  in  Spanish. 

38 


Flying    U    Ranch 

"Did  you  get  the  spurs  me  and  my  friends  sent 
you  afterward?"  asked  Andy  eagerly.  "We  heard 
about  the  Arizona  boys  giving  you  the  saddle — and 
we  raked  high  and  low  for  them  spurs.  And,  by 
gracious,  they  were  beauts,  too — did  yuh  get  'em?" 

"I  wear  them  every  day  I  ride,"  answered  Mi 
guel,  a  peculiar,  caressing  note  in  his  voice. 

"I  didn't  know — we  heard  you  had  disappeared 
off  the  earth.  Why " 

Miguel  laughed  outright.  "To  fight  a  bull  with 
bare  hands  is  one  thing,  amigo"  he  said.  "To  take 
a  chance  on  getting  a  knife  stuck  in  your  back  is 
another.  Those  Mexicans — they  don't  love  the 
man  who  crosses  the  river  and  makes  of  their  bull 
fights  a  plaything." 

"That's  right;  only  I  thought,  you  being  a " 

"Not  a  Mexican."  Miguel's  voice  sharpened  a 
trifle.  "My  father  was  Spanish,  yes.  My  mother" 
— his  eyes  flashed  briefly  at  the  faces  of  the  gaping 
Happy  Family — "my  mother  was  born  in  Ireland." 

"And  that  sure  makes  a  hard  combination  to 
39 


Flying    U     Ranch 

beat,"  cried  Andy  heartily.  He  looked  at  the  others 
— at  all,  that  is,  save  Pink  and  Irish,  who  had  dis 
appeared.  "Well,  boys,  I  never  thought  I'd  come 
home  and  find 

"Miguel  Rapponi,"  supplied  the  Native  Son 
quickly.  "As  well  forget  that  other  name.  And," 
he  added  with  the  shrug  which  the  Happy  Family 
had  come  to  hate,  "as  well  forget  the  story,  also. 
I  am  not  hungry  for  the  feel  of  a  knife  in  my 
back."  He  smiled  again  engagingly  at  Andy  Green. 
It  was  astonishing  how  readily  that  smile  had 
sprung  to  life  with  the  warmth  of  a  little  friend 
ship,  and  how  pleasant  it  was,  withal. 

"Just  as  you  say,"  Andy  agreed,  not  trying  to 
hide  his  admiration.  "I  guess  nobody's  got  a  bet 
ter  right  to  holler  for  silence.  But — say,  you 
sure  delivered  the  goods,  old  boy !  You  musta  read 
about  it,  you  fellows;  about  the  American 
puncher  that  went  over  the  line  and  rode  one  of 

their  crack  bulls  all  round  the  ring,  and  then " 

He  stopped  and  looked  apologetically  at  Miguel,  in 

40 


Flying    U     Ranch 

whose  dark  eyes  there  flashed  a  warning  light.  "I 
clean  forgot,"  he  confessed  impulsively.  "This 
meeting  you  here  unexpectedly,  like  this,  has  kinda 
got  me  rattled,  I  guess.  But — I  never  saw  yuh  be 
fore  in  my  life,"  he  declared  emphatically.  "I  don't 
know  a  darn  thing  about — anything  that  ever  hap 
pened  in  an  alley  in  the  city  of — oh,  come  on,  old- 
timer;  let's  talk  about  the  weather,  or  something 
safe!" 

After  that  the  boys  of  the  Flying  U  behaved  very 
much  as  do  children  who  have  quarreled  foolishly 
and  are  trying  shamefacedly  to  re-establish  friendly 
relations  without  the  preliminary  indignity  of  open 
repentance.  They  avoided  meeting  the  velvet-eyed 
glances  of  Miguel,  and  at  the  same  time  they  were 
plainly  anxious  to  include  him  in  their  talk  as  if 
that  had  been  their  habit  from  the  first.  A  diffi 
cult  situation  to  meet,  even  with  the  fine  aplomb 
of  the  Happy  Family  to  ease  the  awkwardness. 

Later  Miguel  went  unobtrusively  down  to  the 
creek  after  his  chaps ;  he  did  not  get  them,  just  then, 


Flying    U    Ranch 

but  he  stood  for  a  long  time  hidden  behind  the  wil 
low-fringe,  watching  Pink  and  Irish  feverishly 
combing  out  certain  corkscrew  ringlets,  and  damp 
ening  their  combs  in  the  creek  to  facilitate  the 
process  of  straightening  certain  patches  of  rebel 
lious  frizzes.  Miguel  did  not  laugh  aloud,  as  Big 
Medicine  had  done.  He  stood  until  he  wearied  of 
the  sight,  then  lifted  his  shoulders  in  the  gesture 
which  may  mean  anything,  smiled  and  went  his 
way. 

Not  until  dusk  did  Andy  get  a  private  word  with 
him.  When  he  did  find  him  alone,  he  pumped  Mi 
guel's  hand  up  and  down  and  afterward  clutched  at 
the  manger  for  support,  and  came  near  strangling. 
Miguel  leaned  beside  him  and  smiled  to  himself. 

"Good  team  work,  old  boy,"  Andy  gasped  at 
length,  in  a  whisper.  "Best  I  ever  saw  in  m'life, 
impromptu  on  the  spot,  like  that.  I  saw  you  had 
the  makings  in  you,  soon  as  I  caught  your  eye. 
And  the  whole,  blame  bunch  fell  for  it — woo-oof!" 

42 


Flying    U    Ranch 

He  laid  his  face  down  again  upon  his  folded  arms 
and  shook  in  all  the  long  length  of  him. 

"They  had  it  coming,"  said  Miguel  softly,  with  a 
peculiar  relish.  "Two  whole  weeks,  and  never  a 
friendly  word  from  one  of  them — oh,  hell!" 

"I  know — I  heard  it  all,  soon  as  I  hit  the  ranch," 
Andy  replied  weakly,  standing  up  and  wiping  his 
eyes.  "I  just  thought  I'd  learn  'em  a  lesson — and 
the  way  you  played  up— say,  my  hat's  off  to  you, 
all  right!" 

"One  learns  to  seize  opportunities  without  stut 
tering,"  Miguel  observed  calmly — and  a  queer  look 
came  into  his  eyes  as  they  rested  upon  the  face  of 
Andy.  "And,  if  the  chance  comes,  I'll  do  as  much 
for  you.  By  the  way,  did  you  see  the  saddle  those 
Arizona  boys  sent  me?  It's  over  here.  It's  a  pip 
pin — almost  as  fine  as  the  spurs,  which  I  keep  in 
the  bunk-house  when  they're  not  on  my  heels.  And, 
if  I  didn't  say  so  before,  I'm  sure  glad  to  meet  the 
man  that  helped  me  through  that  alley.  That  big, 

43 


Flying    U    Ranch 

fat  devil  would  have  landed  me,  sure,  if  you 
hadn't " 

"Ah — what?'  Andy  leaned  and  peered  into  the 
face  of  Miguel,  his  jaw  hanging  slack.  "You 
don't  mean  to  tell  me — it's  true?" 

"True?  Why,  I  thought  you  were  the  fel 
low "  Miguel  faced  him  steadily.  His  eyes 

were  frankly  puzzled. 

"I'll  tell  you  the  truth,  so  help  me,"  Andy  said 
heavily.  "I  don't  know  a  darned  thing  about  it, 
only  what  I  read  in  the  papers.  I  spent  the  whole 
winter  in  Colorado  and  Wyoming.  I  was  just 
joshing  the  boys." 

"Oh,"  said  Miguel. 

They  stood  there  in  the  dusk  and  silence  for  a 
space,  after  which  Andy  went  forth  into  the  night 
to  meditate  upon  this  thing.  Miguel  stood  and 
looked  after  him. 

"He's  the  real  goods  when  it  comes  to  lying — but 
there  are  others,"  he  said  aloud,  and  smiled  a  pecu 
liar  smile.  But  for  all  that  he  felt  that  he  was 

44 


Flying    U    Ranch 

going  to  like  Andy  very  much  indeed.  And,  since 
the  Happy  Family  had  shown  a  disposition  to  make 
him  one  of  themselves,  he  knew  that  he  was  going 
to  become  quite  as  foolishly  attached  to  the  Flying 
U  as  was  even  Slim,  confessedly  the  most  rabid 
of  partisans. 

In  this  wise  did  Miguel  Rapponi,  then,  become 
a  member  of  Jim  Whitmore's  Happy  Family,  and 
play  his  part  in  the  events  which  followed  his  adop 
tion. 


45 


CHAPTER    III 

Bad  News 

Andy  Green,  that  honest-eyed  young  man  whom 
everyone  loved,  but  whom  not  a  man  believed  save 
when  he  was  indulging  his  love  for  more  or  less 
fantastic  nights  of  the  imagination,  pulled  up  on 
the  brow  of  Flying  U  coulee  and  stared  somberly 
at  the  picture  spread  below  him.  On  the  porch 
of  the  White  House  the  hammock  swung  gently 
under  the  weight  of  the  Little  Doctor,  who  pushed 
her  slipper-toe  mechanically  against  a  post  support 
at  regular  intervals  while  she  read. 

On  the  steps  the  Kid  was  crawling  laboriously 
upward,  only  to  descend  again  quite  as  laboriously 
when  he  attained  the  top.  One  of  the  boys  was 
just  emerging  from  the  blacksmith  shop;  from  the 
build  of  him  Andy  knew  it  must  be  either  Weary 
or  Irish,  though  it  would  take  a  much  closer  ob- 

46 


Flying    U     Ranch 

servation,  and  some  familiarity  with  the  two  to 
identify  the  man  more  exactly.  In  the  corral  were 
a  swirl  of  horses  and  an  overhanging  cloud  of  dust, 
with  two  or  three  figures  discernible  in  the  midst, 
and  away  in  the  little  pasture  two  other  figures 
were  galloping  after  a  fleeing  dozen  of  horses. 
While  he  looked,  old  Patsy  came  out  of  the  mess- 
house,  and  went,  with  flapping  flour-sack  apron,  to 
the  woodpile. 

Peaceful  it  was,  and  home-like  and  contentedly 
prosperous;  a  little  world  tucked  away  in  its  hills, 
with  its  own  little  triumphs  and  defeats,  its  own 
heartaches  and  rejoicings;  a  lucky  little  world,  be 
cause  its  triumphs  had  been  satisfying,  its  defeats 
small,  its  heartaches  brief,  and  its  rejoicings  un 
tainted  with  harassment  or  guilt.  Yet  Andy  stared 
down  upon  it  with  a  frown ;  and,  when  he  twitched 
the  reins  and  began  the  descent,  he  sighed  impa 
tiently. 

Past  the  stable  he  rode  with  scarcely  a  glance 
toward  Weary,  who  shouted  a  casual  "Hello"  at 

47 


Flying    U     Ranch 

him  from  the  corral;  through  the  big  gate  and  up 
the  trail  to  the  White  House,  and  straight  to  the 
porch,  where  the  Little  Doctor  flipped  a  leaf  of  her 
magazine  and  glanced  at  him  with  a  smile,  and  the 
Kid  turned  his  plump  body  upon  the  middle  step 
and  wrinkled  his  nose  in  a  smile  of  recognition, 
while  he  threw  out  an  arm  in  welcome,  and  made  a 
wobbling  effort  to  get  upon  his  feet. 

Andy  smiled  at  the  Kid,  but  his  smile  did  not 
reach  his  eyes,  and  faded  almost  immediately.  He 
glanced  at  the  Little  Doctor,  sent  his  horse  past 
the  steps  and  the  Kid,  and  close  to  the  railing,  so 
that  he  could  lean  and  toss  the  mail  into  the  Little 
Doctor's  lap.  There  was  a  yellow  envelope  among 
the  letters,  and  her  fingers  singled  it  out  curiously. 
Andy  folded  his  hands  upon  the  saddle-horn  and 
watched  her  frankly. 

"Must  be  from  J.  G.,"  guessed  the  Little  Doctor, 
inserting  a  slim  finger  under  the  badly  sealed  flap. 
"I've  been  wondering  if  he  wasn't  going  to  send 
some  word — he's  been  gone  a  week — Baby!  He's 

48 


Flying    U     Ranch 

right  between  your  horse's  legs,  Andy!  Oh-h — 
baby  boy,  what  won't  you  do  next?"  She  scattered 
letters  and  papers  from  her  lap  and  flew  to  the 
rescue.  "Will  he  kick,  Andy?  You  little  ruffian." 
She  held  out  her  arms  coaxingly  from  the  top  of 
the  steps,  and  her  face,  Andy  saw  when  he  looked 
at  her,  had  lost  some  of  its  color. 

"The  horse  is  quiet  enough,"  he  reassured  her. 
"But  at  the  same  time  I  wouldn't  hand  him  out  as 
a  plaything  for  a  kid."  He  leaned  cautiously  and 
peered  backward. 

"Oh— did  you  ever  see  such  a  child!  Come  to 
mother,  Baby !"  Her  voice  was  becoming  strained. 

The  Kid,  wrinkling  his  nose,  and  jabbering  un 
intelligibly  at  her,  so  that  four  tiny  teeth  showed  in 
his  pink  mouth,  moved  farther  backward,  and  sat 
down  violently  under  the  horse's  sweat-roughened 
belly.  He  wriggled  round  so  that  he  faced  forward, 
reached  out  gleefully,  caught  the  front  fetlocks, 
and  cried  "Dup !"  while  he  pulled.  The  Little  Doc 
tor  turned  white. 

49 


Flying    U     Ranch 

"He's  all  right,"  soothed  Andy,  and,  leaning  with 
a  twist  of  his  slim  body,  caught  the  Kid  firmly  by 
the  back  of  his  pink  dress,  and  lifted  him  clear  of 
danger.  He  came  up  with  a  red  face,  tossed  the 
Kid  into  the  eager  arms  of  the  Little  Doctor,  and 
soothed  his  horse  with  soft  words  and  a  series  of 
little  slaps  upon  the  neck.  He  was  breathing  un 
evenly,  because  the  Kid  had  really  been  in  rather  a 
ticklish  position ;  but  the  Little  Doctor  had  her  face 
hidden  on  the  baby's  neck  and  did  not  see. 

"Where's  Chip?"  Andy  turned  to  ride  back  to 
the  stable,  glancing  toward  the  telegram  lying  on 
the  floor  of  the  porch ;  and  from  it  his  eyes  went  to 
the  young  woman  trying  to  laugh  away  her  trem 
bling  while  she  scolded  adoringly  her  adventurous 
man-child.  He  was  about  to  speak  again,  but 
thought  better  of  it,  and  sighed. 

"Down  at  the  stables  somewhere — I  don't  know, 
really;  the  boys  can  tell  you.  Mother's  baby 
mustn't  touch  the  naughty  horses.  Naughty 

horses  hurt  mother's  baby !    Make  him  cry " 

50 


Flying    U     Ranch 

Andy  gave  her  a  long  look,  which  had  in  it  much 
pity,  and  rode  away.  He  knew  what  was  in  that 
telegram,  for  the  agent  had  told  him  when  he 
hunted  him  up  at  Rusty  Brown's  and  gave  it  to 
him;  and  the  horse  of  Andy  bore  mute  testimony 
to  the  speed  with  which  he  had  brought  it  to  the 
ranch.  Not  until  he  had  reached  the  coulee  had  he 
slackened  his  pace.  He  decided,  after  that  glance, 
that  he  would  not  remind  her  that  she  had  not 
read  the  telegram;  instead,  he  thought  he  ought  to 
find  Chip  immediately  and  send  him  to  her. 

Chip  was  rummaging  after  something  in  the 
store-house,  and,  when  Andy  saw  him  there,  he  dis 
mounted  and  stood  blotting  out  the  light  from  the 
doorway.  Chip  looked  up,  said  "Hello"  carelessly, 
and  flung  an  old  slicker  aside  that  he  might  search 
beneath  it.  "Back  early,  aren't  you?"  he  asked, 
for  sake  of  saying  something. 

Andy's  attitude  was  not  as  casual  as  he  would 
have  had  it. 

"Say,  maybe  you  better  go  on  up  to  the  house," 


Flying    U     Ranch 

he  began  diffidently.  "I  guess  your  wife  wants  to 
see  yuh,  maybe." 

"Just  as  a  good  wife  should,"  grinned  Chip. 
"What's  the  matter?  Kid  fall  off  the  porch?" 

"N-o-o — I  brought  out  a  wire  from  Chicago. 
It's  from  a  doctor  there — some  hospital.  The — 
Old  Man  got  hurt.  One  of  them  cussed  automo 
biles  knocked  him  down.  They  want  you  to  come." 

Chip  had  straightened  up  and  was  looking  at 
Andy  blankly.  "If  you're  just " 

"Honest,"  Andy  asserted,  and  flushed  a  little. 
"I'll  go  tell  some  one  to  catch  up  the  team — you'll 
want  to  make  that  1 1 :2O,  I  take  it."  He  added,  as 
Chip  went  by  him  hastily,  "I  had  the  agent  wire 
for  sleeper  berths  on  the  n  120,  so " 

"Thanks.  Yes,  you  have  the  team  caught  up, 
Andy."  Chip  was  already  well  on  his  way  to  the 
house. 

Andy  waited  till  he  saw  the  Little  Doctor  come 
hurriedly  to  the  end  of  the  porch  overlooking  the 
pathway,  with  the  telegram  fluttering  in  her  fingers, 

52 


Flying    U     Ranch 

and  then  led  his  horse  down  through  the  gate  and 
to  the  stable.  He  yanked  the  saddle  off,  turned 
the  tired  animal  into  a  stall,  and  went  on  to  the 
corral,  where  he  leaned  elbows  on  a  warped  rail  and 
peered  through  at  the  turmoil  within.  Close  be 
side  him  stood  Weary,  with  his  loop  dragging  be 
hind  him,  waiting  for  a  chance  to  throw  it  over 
the  head  of  a  buckskin  three-year-old  with  black 
mane  and  tail. 

"Get  in  here  and  make  a  hand,  why  don't  you?" 
Weary  bantered,  his  eye  on  the  buckskin.  "Good 
chance  to  make  a  'rep'  for  yourself,  Andy.  Gawd 
greased  that  buckskin — he  sure  can  slide  out  from 
under  a  rope  as  easy 

He  broke  off  to  flip  the  loop  dexterously  for 
ward,  had  the  reward  of  seeing  the  buckskin  dodge 
backward,  so  that  the  rope  barely  flicked  him  on 
the  nose,  and  drew  in  his  rope  disgustedly.  "Come 
on,  Andy — my  hands  are  up  in  the  air ;  I  can't  land 
him — that's  the  fourth  throw." 

Andy's  interest  in  the  buckskin,  however,  was 
53 


Flying    U     Ranch 

scant.     His  face  was  sober,  his  whole  attitude  one 
of  extreme  dejection. 

"You  got  the  tummy-ache?"  Pink  inquired  face 
tiously,  moving  around  so  that  he  got  a  fair  look  at 
his  face. 

"Naw — his  girl's  went  back  on  him!"  Happy 
Jack  put  in,  coiling  his  rope  as  he  came  up. 

"Oh,  shut  up!"  Andy's  voice  was  sharp  with 
trouble.  "Boys,  the  Old  Man's — well,  he's  most 
likely  dead  by  this  time.  I  brought  out  a  tele 
gram " 

"Go  on!"  Pink's  eyes  widened  incredulously. 
"Don't  you  try  that  kind  of  a  load,  Andy  Green, 
or  I'll  just  about " 

"Oh,  you  fellows  make  me  sick!"  Andy  took  his 
elbows  off  the  rail  and  stood  straight.  "Dammit, 
the  telegram's  up  at  the  house — go  and  read  it  your 
selves,  then!" 

The  three  stared  after  him  doubtfully,  fear 
struggling  with  the  caution  born  of  much  experi 
ence. 

54 


Flying    U     Ranch 

"He  don't  act,  to  me,  like  he  was  putting  up  a 
josh,"  Weary  stated  uneasily,  after  a  minute  of 
silence.  "Run  up  to  the  house  and  find  out,  Cad- 
walloper.  The  Old  Man — oh,  good  Lord!"  The 
tan  on  Weary's  face  took  a  lighter  tinge.  "Scoot — 
it  won't  take  but  a  minute  to  find  out  for  sure.  Go 
on,  Pink." 

"So  help  me  Josephine,  I'll  kill  that  same  Andy 
Green  if  he's  lied  about  it,"  Pink  declared,  while 
he  climbed  the  fence. 

In  three  minutes  he  was  back,  and  before  he 
had  said  a  word,  his  face  confirmed  the  bad  news. 
Their  eyes  besought  him  for  details,  and  he  gave 
them  jerkily.  "Automobile  run  over  him.  He 
ain't  dead,  but  they  think — Chip  and  the  Little 
Doctor  are  going  to  catch  the  night  train.  You  go 
haze  in  the  team,  Happy.  And  give  'em  a  feed  of 
oats,  Chip  said." 

Irish  and  Big  Medicine,  seeing  the  three  stand 
ing  soberly  together  there,  and  sensing  something 
unusual,  came  up  and  heard  the  news  in  stunned 

55 


Flying    U     Ranch 

silence.     Andy,   forgetting  his  pique  at  their  first 
disbelief,  came  forlornly  back  and  stood  with  them. 

The  Old  Man — the  thing  could  not  be  true!  To 
every  man  of  them  his  presence,  conjured  by  the 
impending  tragedy,  was  almost  a  palpable  thing. 
His  stocky  figure  seemed  almost  to  stand  in  their 
midst;  he  looked  at  them  with  his  whimsical  eyes, 
which  had  the  radiating  crows- feet  of  age,  humor 
and  habitual  squinting  against  sun  and  wind;  the 
bald  spot  on  his  head,  the  wrinkling  shirt-collar  that 
seldom  knew  a  tie,  the  carpet  slippers  which  were 
his  favorite  footgear  because  they  were  kind  to  his 
bunions,  his  husky  voice,  goodnaturedly  complain 
ing,  were  poignantly  real  to  them  at  that  moment. 
Then  Irish  mentally  pictured  him  lying  maimed,  dy 
ing,  perhaps,  in  a  far-off  hospital  among  strangers, 
and  swore. 

"If  he's  got  to  die,  it  oughta  be  here,  where  folks 

know  him  and — where  he  knows "     Irish  was 

not  accustomed  to  giving  voice  to  his  deeper  feel 
ings,  and  he  blundered  awkwardly  over  it. 

56 


Flying    U     Ranch 

"I  never  did  go  much  on  them  darned  hospitals, 
anyway,"  Weary  observed  gloomily.  "He  oughta 
be  home,  where  folks  can  look  after  him.  Mam 
ma!  It  sure  is  a  fright." 

"I  betche  Chip  and  the  Little  Doctor  won't  get 
there  in  time,"  Happy  Jack  predicted,  with  his 
usual  pessimism.  "The  Old  Man's  gittin'  old " 

"He  ain't  but  fifty-two;  yuh  call  that  old,  con- 
sarn  yuh?  He's  younger  right  now  than  you'll  be 
when  you're  forty." 

"Countess  is  going  along,  too,  so  she  can  ride 
herd  on  the  Kid,"  Pink  informed  them.  "I  heard 
the  Little  Doctor  tell  her  to  pack  up,  and  'never 
mind  if  she  did  have  sponge  all  set!'  Countess 
seemed  to  think  her  bread  was  a  darned  sight  more 
important  than  the  Old  Man.  That's  the  way  with 
women.  They'll  pass  up " 

"Well,  by  golly,  I  like  to  see  a  woman  take  some 
interest  in  her  own  affairs,"  Slim  defended.  "What 
they  packin'  up  for,  and  where  they  goin'?"  Slim 

57 


Flying    U     Ranch 

had  just  ridden  up  to  the  group  in  time  to  over 
hear  Pink's  criticism. 

They  told  him  the  news,  and  Slim  swallowed 
twice,  said  "By  golly!"  quite  huskily,  and  then 
rode  slowly  away  with  his  head  bowed.  He  had 
worked  for  the  Flying  U  when  it  was  strictly  a 
bachelor  outfit,  and  with  the  tenacity  of  slow  minds 
he  held  J.  G.  Whitmore,  his  beloved  "Old  Man," 
as  but  a  degree  lower  than  that  mysterious  power 
which  made  the  sun  to  shine — and,  if  the  truth 
were  known,  he  had  accepted  him  as  being  quite  as 
eternal.  His  loyalty  adjusted  everything  to  the 
interests  of  the  Flying  U.  That  the  Old  Man 
could  die — the  possibility  stunned  him. 

They  were  a  sorry  company  that  gathered  that 
night  around  the  long  table  with  its  mottled  oil 
cloth  covering  and  benches  polished  to  a  glass-like 
smoothness  with  their  own  vigorous  bodies.  They 
did  not  talk  much  about  the  Old  Man;  indeed,  they 
came  no  nearer  the  subject  than  to  ask  Weary  if 
he  were  going  to  drive  the  team  in  to  Dry  Lake. 

58 


Flying    U     Ranch 

They  did  not  talk  much  about  anything,  for  that 
matter;  even  the  knives  and  forks  seemed  to  share 
the  general  depression  of  spirits,  and  failed  to  give 
forth  the  cheerful  clatter  which  was  a  daily  accom 
paniment  of  meals  in  that  room. 

Old  Patsy,  he  who  had  cooked  for  J.  G.  Whit- 
more  when  the  Flying  U  coulee  was  a  wilderness 
and  the  brand  yet  unrecorded  and  the  irons  un 
made — Patsy  lumbered  heavily  about  the  room  and 
could  not  find  his  dish-cloth  when  it  was  squeezed 
tight  in  one  great,  fat  hand,  and  unthinkingly 
started  to  fill  their  coffee  cups  from  the  tea-kettle. 

"Py  cosh,  I  vould  keel  der  fool  vot  made  her 
first  von  of  der  automo-beels,  yet!"  he  exclaimed 
unexpectedly,  after  a  long  silence,  and  cast  his  pipe 
vindictively  toward  his  bunk  in  one  corner. 

The  Happy  Family  looked  around  at  him,  then 
understandingly  at  one  another. 

"Same  here,  Patsy,"  Jack  Bates  agreed.  "What 
they  want  of  the  damned  things  when  the  country's 
full  uh  good  horses  gits  me." 

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Flying    U     Ranch 

"So  some  Yahoo  with  just  sense  enough  to  put 
goggles  on  to  cover  up  his  fool  face  can  run  over 
folks  he  ain't  good  enough  to  speak  to,  by  cripes!" 
Big  Medicine  glared  aggressively  up  and  down  the 
table. 

Weary  got  up  suddenly  and  went  out,  and  Slim 
followed  him,  though  his  supper  was  half-uneaten. 

"This  goin'  to  be  hard  on  the  Little  Doctor — 
only  brother  she's  got,"  they  heard  Happy  Jack 
point  out  unnecessarily;  and  Weary,  the  equable, 
was  guilty  of  slamming  the  door  so  that  the  whole 
building  shook,  by  way  of  demonstrating  his  dis 
like  of  speech  upon  the  subject. 

They  were  a  sorry  company  who  waved  hands 
at  the  Little  Doctor  and  the  Kid  and  the  Countess, 
just  when  the  afterglow  of  a  red  sunset  was  merg 
ing  into  the  vague,  purple  shadows  of  coming  dusk. 
They  stood  silent,  for  the  most  part,  and  let  them 
go  without  the  usual  facetious  advice  to  "Be  good 
to  yourselves,"  and  the  hackneyed  admonition  to 

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Flying    U     Ranch 

Chip  to  keep  out  of  jail  if  he  could.  There  must 
have  been  something  very  wistful  in  their  faces, 
for  the  Little  Doctor  smiled  bravely  down  upon 
them  from  the  buggy  seat,  and  lifted  up  the  Kid 
for  a  four-toothed  smile  and  an  ecstatic  "Bye !"  ac 
companied  by  a  vigorous  flopping  of  hands,  which 
included  them  all. 

"We'll  telegraph  first  thing,  boys,"  the  Little 
Doctor  called  back,  as  the  rig  chucked  into  the  peb 
bly  creek  crossing.  "We'll  keep  you  posted,  and 
I'll  write  all  the  particulars  as  soon  as  I  can.  Don't 
think  the  worst — unless  you  have  to.  I  don't."  She 
smiled  again,  and  waved  her  hand  hastily  because 
of  the  Kid's  contortions ;  and,  though  the  smile  had 
tears  close  behind  it,  though  her  voice  was  tremu 
lous  in  spite  of  herself,  the  Happy  Family  took 
heart  from  her  courage  and  waved  their  hats 
gravely,  and  smiled  back  as  best  they  could. 

"There's  a  lot  uh  cake  you  boys  might  just  as 
well  eat  up,"  the  Countess  called  belatedly.  "It'll 

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Flying    U     Ranch 

all  dry  out,  if  yuh  don't — and  there  ain't  no  use 
wastin'  it — and  there's  two  lemon  pies  in  the  brown 
cupboard,   and   what   under  the   shinin'   sun— 
The  wheels  bumped  violently  against  a  rock,  and 
the  Happy  Family  heard  no  more. 


CHAPTER    IV 

Some  Hopes 

On  the  third  day  after  the  Happy  Family  de 
cided  that  there  should  be  some  word  from  Chi 
cago;  and,  since  that  day  was  Sunday,  they  rode 
in  a  body  to  Dry  Lake  after  it.  They  had  not 
discussed  the  impending  tragedy  very  much,  but 
they  were  an  exceedingly  Unhappy  Family,  never 
theless  ;  and,  since  Flying  U  coulee  was  but  a  place 
of  gloom,  they  were  not  averse  to  leaving  it  be 
hind  them  for  a  few  hours,  and  riding  where  every 
stick  and  stone  did  not  remind  them  of  the  Old 
Man. 

In  Dry  Lake  was  a  message,  brief  but  hearten 
ing: 

"J-  G.  still  alive.     Some  hopes." 

They  left  the  station  with  lighter  spirits  after 
reading  that;  rode  to  the  hotel,  tied  their  horses 

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Flying     U     Ranch 

to  the  long  hitching  pole  there  and  went  in.  And 
right  there  the  Happy  Family  unwittingly  became 
cast  for  the  leading  parts  in  one  of  those  dramas 
of  the  West  which  never  is  heard  of  outside  the 
theater  in  which  grim  circumstance  stages  it  for  a 
single  playing — unless,  indeed,  the  curtain  rings 
down  on  a  tragedy  that  brings  the  actors  before 
their  district  judge  for  trial.  And,  as  so  frequently 
is  the  case,  the  beginning  was  casual  to  the  point  of 
triviality. 

Sary,  Ellen,  Marg'reet,  Sybilly  and  Jos'phine 
Denson  (spelled  in  accordance  with  parental  pro 
nunciation)  were  swinging  idly  upon  the  hitching 
pole,  with  the  self-conscious  sang  froid  of  country 
children  come  to  town.  They  backed  away  from 
the  Happy  Family's  approach,  grinned  foolishly  in 
response  to  their  careless  greeting,  and  tittered 
openly  at  the  resplendence  of  the  Native  Son,  who 
was  wearing  his  black  Angora  chaps  with  the  three 
white  diamonds  down  each  leg,  the  gay  horsehair 
hatband,  crimson  neckerchief  and  Mexican  spurs 

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Flying    U     Ranch 

with  their  immense  rowels  and  ornate  conchos  of 
hand-beaten  silver.  Sary,  Ellen,  Marg'reet,  Jos'- 
phine  and  Sybilly  were  also  resplendent,  in  their 
way.  Their  carrotty  hair  was  tied  with  ribbons 
quite  aggressively  new,  their  freckles  shone  with 
maternal  scrubbing,  and  there  was  a  hint  of  home 
made  "crochet-lace"  beneath  each  stiffly  starched 
dress. 

"Hello,  kids,"  Weary  greeted  them  amiably,  with 
a  secret  smile  over  the  memory  of  a  time  when 
they  had  purloined  the  Little  Doctor's  pills  and 
had  made  reluctant  acquaintance  with  a  stomach 
pump.  "Where's  the  circus  going  to  be  at?" 

"There  ain't  goin'  to  be  no  circus,"  Sybilly  re 
torted,  because  she  was  the  forward  one  of  the 
family.  "We're  going  away;  on  the  train.  The 
next  one  that  comes  along.  We're  going  to  be  on 
it  all  night,  too;  and  we'll  have  to  eat  on  it,  too." 

"Well,  by  golly,  you'll  want  something  to  eat, 
then!"  Slim  was  feeling  abstractedly  in  his  pocket 

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Flying    U    Ranch 

lor  a  coin,  for  these  were  the  nieces  of  the  Countess, 
and  therefore  claimed  more  than  a  cursory  interest 
from  Slim.  "You  take  this  up  to  the  store  and  see 
if  yuh  can't  swop  it  for  something  good  to  eat." 
Because  Sary  was  the  smallest  of  the  lot  he  pressed 
the  dollar  into  her  shrinking,  amazed  palm. 

"Paw's  got  more  money'n  that,"  Sybilly  an 
nounced  proudly.  "Paw's  got  a  million  dollars.  A 
man  bought  our  ranch  and  gave  him  a  lot  of  money. 
We're  rich  now.  Maybe  paw'll  buy  us  a  phony- 
graft.  He  said  maybe  he  would.  And  maw's  go  in' 
to  have  a  blue  silk  dress  with  green  onto  it. 
And " 

"Better  haze  along  and  buy  that  grub  stake," 
Slim  interrupted  the  family  gift  for  profuse  speech. 
He  had  caught  the  boys  grinning,  and  fancied  that 
they  were  tracing  a  likeness  between  the  garrulity 
of  Sybilly  and  the  fluency  of  her  aunt,  the  Countess. 
"You  don't  want  that  train  to  go  off  and  leave 
yuh,  by  golly." 

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Flying    U    Ranch 

"Wonder  who  bought  Denson  out?"  Cal  Em- 
mett  asked  of  no  one  in  particular,  as  the  children 
went  strutting  off  to  the  store  to  spend  the  dollar 
which  little  Sary  clutched  so  tightly  it  seemed  as  if 
the  goddess  of  liberty  must  surely  have  been  im 
printed  upon  her  palm. 

When  they  went  inside  and  found  Denson  him 
self  pompously  "setting  'em  up  to  the  house,"  Cal 
repeated  the  question  in  a  slightly  different  form 
to  the  man  himself. 

Denson,  while  he  was  ready  to  impress  the  be 
holders  with  his  unaccustomed  affluence,  became 
noticeably  embarrassed  at  the  inquiry,  and  edged 
off  into  vague  generalities. 

"I  jest  nacherlly  had  to  sell  when  I  got  m'  price," 
he  told  the  Happy  Family  in  a  tone  that  savored 
strongly  of  apology.  "I  like  the  country,  and  I 
like  m'  neighbors  fine.  Never'd  ask  for  better  tilan 
the  Flyin'  U  has  been  t'  me.  I  ain't  got  no  kick 
comuv  there.  Sorry  to  hear  the  Old  Mbrt's  hurt 
back  East.  Mary  was  real  put  out  at  not  bem' 

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Flying    U    Ranch 

able  to  see  Louise  'fore  she  went  away" — Louise 
being  the  Countess'  and  Mary  Benson's  sister — "but 
soon  as  I  sold  I  got  oneasy  like.  The  feller  wanted 
p'session  right  away,  too,  so  I  told  Mary  we  might 
as  well  start  b'fore  we  git  outa  the  notion.  I 
wouldn't  uh  cared  about  sellin',  maybe,  but  the 
kids  needs  to  be  in  school.  They're  growin'  up  in 
ign'rance  out  here,  and  Mary's  folks  wants  us  to 
come  back  'n'  settle  close  handy  by — they  been  at  us 
t'  sell  out  and  move  f er  the  last  five  years,  now,  and 
I  told  Mary " 

Even  Cat  forgot,  eventually,  that  he  had  asked 
a  question  which  remained  unanswered ;  what  inter 
est  he  had  felt  at  first  was  smothered  to  death  be 
neath  that  blanket  of  words,  and  he  eagerly  fol 
lowed  the  boys  out  and  over  to  Rusty  Brown's 
place,  where  Denson,  because  of  an  old  grudge 
against  Rusty,  might  be  trusted  not  to  follow. 

"Mamma!"  Weary  commented  amusedly,  when 
they  were  crossing  the  street,  "that  Denson  bunch 

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Flying    U     Ranch 

can  sure  talk  the  fastest  and  longest,  and  say  the 
least,  of  any  outfit  I  ever  saw." 

"Wonder  who  did  buy  him  out?"  Jack  Bates 
queried.  "Old  ginger-whiskers  didn't  pass  out  any 
facts,  yuh  notice.  He  couldn't  have  got  much; 
his  land's  mostly  gravel  and  'doby  patches.  He's  got 
a  water  right  on  Flying  U  creek,  you  know — first 
right,  at  that,  seems  to  me — and  a  dandy  fine  spring 
in  that  coulee.  Wonder  why  our  outfit  didn't  buy 
him  out — seeing  he  wanted  to  sell  so  bad?" 

"This  wantin'  to  sell  is  something  I  never  heard 
of  b'fore,"  Slim  said  slowly.  "To  hear  him  tell  it, 
that  ranch  uh  hisn  was  worth  a  dollar  an  inch,  by 
golly.  I  don't  b'lieve  he's  been  wantin'  to  sell  out. 
If  he  had,  Mis'  Bixby  woulda  said  something  about 
it.  She  don't  know  about  this  here  sellin'  business, 
or  she'd  a  said " 

"Yeah,  you  can  most  generally  bank  on  the 
Countess  telling  all  she  knows,"  Cal  assented  with 
some  sarcasm;  at  which  Slim  grunted  and  turned 
sulky  afterward. 

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Flying    U    Ranch 

Denson  and  his  affairs  they  speedily  forgot  for 
a  time,  in  the  diversion  which  Rusty  Brown's  fa 
miliar  place  afforded  to  young  men  with  unjaded 
nerves  and  a  zest  for  the  primitive  pleasures.  Not 
until  mid-afternoon  did  it  occur  to  them  that  Flying 
U  coulee  was  deserted  by  all  save  old  Patsy,  and 
that  there  were  chores  to  be  done,  if  all  the  creatures 
of  the  coulee  would  sleep  in  comfort  that  night 
Pink,  therefore,  withdrew  his  challenge  to  the 
bunch,  and  laid  his  billiard  cue  down  with  a  sigh 
and  the  remark  that  all  he  lacked  was  time,  to 
have  the  scalps  of  every  last  one  of  them  hanging 
from  his  belt.  Pink  was  figurative  in  his  speech, 
you  will  understand;  and  also  a  bit  vainglorious 
over  beating  Andy  Green  and  Big  Medicine  twice 
in  succession. 

It  occurred  to  Weary  then  that  a  word  of  cheer 
to  the  Old  Man  and  his  anxious  watchers  might 
not  come  amiss.  Therefore  the  Happy  Family 
mounted  and  rode  to  the  depot  to  send  it,  and  on 

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Flying    U     Ranch 

the  way  wrangled  over  the  wording  of  the  mes 
sage  after  their  usual  contentious  manner. 

"Better  tell  'em  everything  is  fine,  at  this  end  uh 
the  line,"  Cal  suggested,  and  was  hooted  at  for  a 
poet. 

"Just  say,"  Weary  began,  when  he  was  inter 
rupted  by  the  discordant  clamor  from  a  trainload  of 
sheep  that  had  just  pulled  in  and  stopped.  "  'Maa- 
aa,  Ma-a-aaa'  darn  yuh,"  he  shouted  derisively,  at 
the  peering,  plaintive  faces,  glimpsed  between  the 
close-set  bars.  "Mamma,  how  I  do  love  sheep!" 
Whereupon  he  put  spurs  to  his  horse  and  galloped 
down  to  the  station  to  rid  his  ears  of  the  turbulent 
wave  of  protest  from  the  cars. 

Naturally  it  required  some  time  to  compose  the 
telegram  in  a  style  satisfactory  to  all  parties.  Out 
side,  cars  banged  together,  an  engine  snorted  ster- 
torously,  and  suffocating  puffs  of  coal  smoke  now 
and  then  invaded  the  waiting-room  while  the  Happy 
Family  were  sending  that  message  of  cheer  to  Chi 
cago.  If  you  are  curious,  the  final  version  of  their 

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Flying    U    Ranch 

combined   sentiments  was  not  at  all   spectacular. 
It  said  merely: 

"Everything  fine  here.     Take  good  care  of 
the  Old  Man.     How's  the  Kid  stacking  up?" 

It  was  signed  simply  "The  Bunch/' 

"Mary's  little  lambs  are  here  yet,  I  see,"  the 
Native  Son  remarked  carelessly  when  they  went 
out.  "Enough  lambs  for  all  the  Marys  in  the 
country.  How  would  you  like  to  be  Mary?" 

"Not  for  me,"  Irish  declared,  and  turned  his 
face  away  from  the  stench  of  them. 

Others  there  were  who  rode  the  length  of  the 
train  with  faces  averted  and  looks  of  disdain;  cow 
men,  all  of  them,  they  shared  the  range  prejudice, 
and  took  no  pains  to  hide  it. 

The  wind  blew  strong  from  the  east,  that  day; 
it  whistled  through  the  open,  double-decked  cars 
packed  with  gray,  woolly  bodies,  whose  voices  were 
ever  raised  in  strident  complaint ;  and  the  stench  of 
them  smote  the  unaccustomed  nostrils  of  the  Happy 

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Flying    U    Ranch 

Family  and  put  them  to  disgusted  flight  up  the 
track  and  across  it  to  where  the  air  was  clean 
again. 

"Honest  to  grandma,  I'd  make  the  poorest  kind 
of  a  sheepherder,"  Big  Medicine  bawled  earnestly, 
when  they  were  well  away  from  the  noise  and  smell 
of  the  detested  animals.  "If  I  had  to  herd  sheep, 
by  cripes,  do  you  know  what  I'd  do?  I'd  haze  'em 
into  a  coulee  and  turn  loose  with  a  good  rifle  and 
plenty  uh  shells,  and  call  in  the  coyotes  to  git  a 
square  meal.  That's  the  way  I'd  herd  sheep.  It's 
the  only  way  you  can  shut  'em  up.  They  just 
'baa-aa,  baa-aa,  baa-aa'  from  the  time  they're 
dropped  till  somebody  kills  'em  off.  Honest,  they 
blat  in  their  sleep.  I've  heard  'em." 

"When  you  and  the  dogs  were  shooting  off  coy 
otes?"  asked  Andy  Green  pointedly,  and  so  precipi 
tated  dissension  which  lasted  for  ten  miles. 


73 


CHAPTER   V 

Sheep 

Slim  rising  first  from  dinner  on  the  next  day 
but  one  opened  the  door  of  the  mess-house,  and 
stood  there  idly  picking  his  teeth  before  he  went 
about  his  work.  After  a  minute  of  listening  to  the 
boys  "joshing"  old  Patsy  about  some  gooseberry 
pies  he  had  baked  without  sugar,  he  turned  his  face 
outward,  threw  up  his  head  like  a  startled  bull,  and 
began  to  sniff. 

"Say,  I  smell  sheep,  by  golly!"  he  announced  in 
the  bellowing  tone  which  was  his  conversational 
voice,  and  sniffed  again. 

"Oh,  that's  just  a  left-over  in  your  system  from 
the  dose  yuh  got  in  town  Sunday,"  Weary  explained 
soothingly.  "I've  smelled  sheep,  and  tasted  sheep, 
and  dreamed  sheep,  ever  since." 

"No,  by  golly,  it's  sheep!  It  ain't  no  memory. 
74 


Flying    U    Ranch 

I — I  b'lieve  I  hear  'em,  too,  by  golly."  Slim  stepped 
out  away  from  the  building  and  faced  suspiciously 
down  the  coulee. 

"Slim,  I  never  suspected  you  of  imagination  be 
fore,"  the  Native  Son  drawled,  and  loitered  out  to 
where  Slim  stood  still  sniffing.  "I  wonder  if  you're 
catching  it  from  Andy  and  me.  Don't  you  think 
you  ought  to  be  vaccinated?" 

"That  ain't  imagination,"  Pink  called  out  from 
within.  "When  anybody  claims  there's  sheep  in 
Flying  U  coulee,  that's  straight  loco." 

"Come  on  out  here  and  smell  'em  yourself,  then!" 
Slim  bawled  indignantly.  "I  never  seen  such  an 
outfit  as  this  is  gittin'  to  be;  you  fellers  don't  be 
lieve  nobody,  no  more.  We  ain't  all  Andy  Greens." 

Upon  hearing  this  Andy  pushed  back  his  chair 
and  strolled  outside.  He  clapped  his  hand  down 
upon  Slim's  fat-cushioned  shoulder  and  swayed 
him  gently.  "Never  mind,  Slim;  you  can't  all  be 
famous,"  he  comforted.  "Some  day,  maybe,  I'll 
teach  yuh  the  fine  art  of  lying  more  convincingly 

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Flying    U    Ranch 

than  the  ordinary  man  can  tell  the  truth.  It  is  a 
fine  art;  it  takes  a  genius  to  put  it  across.  Now, 
the  only  time  anybody  doubts  my  word  is  when 
I'm  sticking  to  the  truth  like  a  sand  burr  to  a  dog's 
tail." 

From  away  to  the  west,  borne  on  the  wind  which 
swept  steadily  down  the  coulee,  came  that  faint, 
humming  sing-song,  which  can  be  made  only  by  a 
herd  of  a  thousand  or  more  sheep,  all  blatting  in 
different  keys — or  by  a  distant  band  playing  mo 
notonously  upon  the  middle  octave  of  their  varied 
instruments. 

"Slim's  right,  by  gracious!  It's  sheep,  sure  as 
yuh  live."  Andy  did  not  wait  for  more,  but 
started  at  a  fast  walk  for  the  stable  and  his  horse. 
After  him  went  the  Native  Son,  who  had  not  been 
with  the  Flying  U  long  enough  to  sense  the  magni 
tude  of  the  affront,  and  Slim,  who  knew  to  a  nicety 
just  what  "cowmen"  considered  the  unpardonable 
sin,  and  the  rest  of  the  Happy  Family,  who  were 
rather  incredulous  still. 

76 


Flying    U    Ranch 

"Must  be  some  fool  herder  just  crossing  the 
coulee,  on  the  move  somewhere,"  Weary  gave  as  a 
solution.  "Half  of  'em  don't  know  a  fence  when 
they  see  it." 

As  they  galloped  toward  the  sound  and  the  smell, 
they  expressed  freely  their  opinion  of  sheep,  the 
men  who  owned  them,  and  the  lunatics  who  watched 
over  the  blatting  things.  They  were  cattlemen  to 
the  marrow  in  their  bones,  and  they  gloried  in  their 
prejudice  against  the  woolly  despoilers  of  the 
range. 

All  these  years  had  the  Flying  U  been  immune 
from  the  nuisance,  save  for  an  occasional  tres 
passer,  who  was  quickly  sent  about  his  business. 
The  Flying  U  range  had  been  kept  in  the  main 
inviolate  from  the  little,  gray  vandals,  which  ate  the 
grass  clean  to  the  sod,  and  trampled  with  their 
sharp-pointed  hoofs  the  very  roots  into  lifelessness ; 
which  polluted  the  water-holes  and  creeks  until  cat 
tle  and  horses  went  thirsty  rather  than  drink; 
which,  in  that  land  of  scant  rainfall,  devastated  the 

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Flying    U    Ranch 

range  where  they  fed  so  that  a  long-established 
prairie-dog  town  was  not  more  barren.  What  won 
der  if  the  men  who  owned  cattle,  and  those  who 
tended  them,  hated  sheep?  So  does  the  farmer 
dread  an  invasion  of  grasshoppers. 

A  mile  down  the  coulee  they  came  upon  the 
band  with  two  herders  and  four  dogs  keeping 
watch.  Across  the  coulee  and  up  the  hillsides  they 
spread  like  a  noisome  gray  blanket.  "Mao-aa, 
maa-aa,  maa-aa,"  two  thousand  strong  they  blatted 
a  strident  medley  while  they  hurried  here  and  there 
after  sweeter  bunches  of  grass,  very  much  like  a 
disturbed  ant-hill. 

The  herders  loitered  upon  either  slope,  their 
dogs  lying  close  beside  them.  There  was  good 
grass  in  that  part  of  the  coulee;  the  Flying  U  had 
saved  it  for  the  saddle  horses  that  were  to  be 
gathered  and  held  temporarily  at  the  ranch;  for  it 
would  save  herding,  and  a  week  in  that  pasture 
would  put  a  keen  edge  on  their  spirits  for  the  hard 
work  of  the  calf  roundup.  A  dozen  or  two  that 

78 


Flying    U    Ranch 

ranged  close  had  already  been  driven  into  the  field 
and  were  feeding  disdainfully  in  a  corner  as  far 
away  from  the  sheep  as  the  fence  would  permit. 

The  Happy  Family,  riding  close-grouped,  stif 
fened  in  their  saddles  and  stared  amazed  at  the  out 
rage. 

"Sheepherders  never  did  have  any  nerve,"  Irish 
observed  after  a  minute.  "They  keep  their 
places  fine!  They'll  drive  their  sheep  right  into 
your  dooryard  and  tell  'em  to  help  themselves  to 
anything  that  happens  to  look  good  to  them.  Oh, 
they're  sure  modest  and  retiring!" 

Weary,  who  had  charge  of  the  outfit  during 
Chip's  absence,  was  making  straight  for  the  near 
est  herder.  Pink  and  Andy  went  with  him,  as  a 
matter  of  course. 

"You  fellows  ride  up  around  that  side,  and  put 
the  run  on  them  sheep,"  Weary  shouted  back  to 
the  others.  "We'll  start  the  other  side  moving. 
Make  'em  travel — back  where  they  came  from." 
He  jerked  his  head  toward  the  north.  He  knew, 

79 


Flying    U    Ranch 

just  as  they  all  knew,  that  there  had  been  no  sheep 
to  the  south,  unless  one  counted  those  that  ranged 
across  the  Missouri  river. 

As  the  three  forced  their  horses  up  the  steep 
slope,  the  herder,  sitting  slouched  upon  a  rock, 
glanced  up  at  them  dully.  He  had  a  long  stick, 
with  which  he  was  apathetically  turning  over  the 
smaller  stones  within  his  reach,  and  as  apathetically 
killing  the  black  bugs  that  scuttled  out  from  the 
moist  earth  beneath.  He  desisted  from  this  un 
exciting  pastime  as  they  drew  near,  and  eyed  them 
with  the  sullenness  that  comes  of  long  isolation 
when  the  person's  nature  forbids  that  other  extreme 
of  babbling  garrulity;  for  no  man  can  live  long 
months  alone  and  remain  perfectly  normal.  Na 
ture,  that  stern  mistress,  always  exacts  a  penalty 
from  us  foolish  mortals  who  would  ignore  the  in 
stincts  she  has  wisely  implanted  within  us  for  our 
good. 

"Maybe,"  Weary  began  mildly  and  without  pref 
ace,  "you  don't  know  this  is  private  property.  Get 

80 


Flying    U     Ranch 

busy  with  your  dogs,  and  haze  these  sheep  back  on 
the  bench."  He  waved  his  hand  to  the  north. 
"And,  when  you  get  a  good  start  in  that  direction," 
he  added,  "yuh  better  keep  right  on  going." 

The  herder  surveyed  him  morosely,  but  he  said 
nothing;  neither  did  he  rise  from  the  rock  to  obey 
the  command.  The  dogs  sat  upon  their  haunches 
and  perked  their  ears  inquiringly,  as  if  they  under 
stood  better  than  did  their  master  that  these  men 
were  not  to  be  quite  overlooked. 

"I  meant  to-day,"  Weary  hinted,  with  the  manner 
of  one  who  deliberately  holds  his  voice  quiet. 

"I  never  asked  yuh  what  yuh  meant,"  the  herder 
mumbled,  scowling.  "We  got  to  keep  'em  on  water 
another  hour,  yet."  He  went  back  to  turning  over 
the  small  rocks  and  to  pursuing  with  his  stick  the 
bugs,  as  if  the  whole  subject  were  squeezed  dry  of 
interest. 

For  a  minute  Weary  stared  unwinkingly  down  at 
him,  uncertain  whether  to  resent  this  as  pure  inso 
lence,  or  to  condone  it  as  imbecility.  "Mamma!" 

81 


Flying    U    Ranch 

he  breathed  eloquently,  and  grinned  at  Andy  and 
Pink.  "This  is  a  real  talkative  cuss,  and  obliging, 
too.  Come  on,  boys;  he's  too  busy  to  bother  with 
a  little  thing  like  sheep." 

He  led  the  way  around  to  the  far  side  of  the 
band,  the  nearest  sheep  scuttling  away  from  them 
as  they  passed.  "I  don't  suppose  we  could  work 
the  combination  on  those  dogs — what?"  he  con 
sidered  aloud,  glancing  back  at  them  where  they 
still  sat  upon  their  haunches  and  watched  the 
strange  riders.  "Say,  Cadwalloper,  you  took  a  few 
lessons  in  sheepherding,  a  couple  of  years  ago, 
when  you  was  stuck  on  that  girl — remember? 
Whistle  'em  up  here  and  set  'em  to  work." 

"You  go  to  the  devil,"  Pink's  curved  lips  replied 
amiably  to  his  boss.  "I've  got  loss-uh-memory  on 
the  sheep  business." 

Whereat  Weary  grinned  and  said  no  more  about 
it. 

On  the  opposite  side  of  the  coulee,  the  boys 
seemed  to  be  laboring  quite  as  fruitlessly  with  the 

82 


Flying    U    Ranch 

other  herder.  They  heard  Big  Medicine's  truculent 
bellow,  as  he  leaned  from  the  saddle  and  waved  a 
fist  close  to  the  face  of  the  herder,  but,  though  they 
rode  with  their  eyes  fixed  upon  the  group,  they 
failed  to  see  any  resultant  movement  of  dogs,  sheep 
or  man. 

There  is,  at  times,  a  certain  safety  in  being  the 
hopeless  minority.  Though  seven  indignant  cow- 
punchers  surrounded  him,  that  herder  was  secure 
from  any  personal  molestation — and  he  knew  it. 
They  were  seven  against  one;  therefore,  after  mak 
ing  some  caustic  remarks,  which  produced  as  little 
effect  as  had  Weary's  command  upon  the  first  man, 
the  seven  were  constrained  to  ride  here  and  there 
along  the  wavering,  gray  line,  and,  with  shouts  and 
swinging  ropes,  themselves  drive  the  sheep  from 
the  coulee. 

There  was  much  clamor  and  dust  and  riding  to 
and  fro.  There  was  language  which  would  have 
made  the  mothers  of  them  weep,  and  there  were 
faces  grown  crimson  from  wrath.  Eventually, 

83 


Flying    U    Ranch 

however,  the  Happy  Family  faced  the  north  fence 
of  the  Flying  U  boundary,  and  saw  the  last  woolly 
back  scrape  under  the  lower  wire,  leaving  a  toll  of 
greasy  wool  hanging  from  the  barbs. 

The  herders  had  drawn  together,  and  were  look 
ing  on  from  a  distance,  and  the  four  dogs  were 
yelping  uneasily  over  their  enforced  inaction.  The 
Happy  Family  went  back  and  rounded  up  the  herd 
ers,  and  by  sheer  weight  of  numbers  forced  them 
to  the  fence  without  laying  so  much  as  a  finger  upon 
them.  The  one  who  had  been  killing  black  bugs 
gave  them  an  ugly  look  as  he  crawled  through,  but 
even  he  did  not  say  anything. 

"Snap  them  wires  down  where  they  belong," 
Weary  commanded  tersely. 

The  man  hesitated  a  minute,  then  sullenly  un 
hooked  the  barbs  of  the  two  lower  strands,  so  that 
the  wires,  which  had  thus  been  lifted  to  permit 
the  passing  of  the  sheep,  twanged  apart  and  once 
more  stretched  straight  from  post  to  post. 

"Now,  just  keep  in  mind  the  fact  that  fences  are 
84 


Flying    U    Ranch 

built  for  use.  This  is  a  private  ranch,  and  sheep 
are  just  about  as  welcome  as  smallpox.  Haze  them 
stinking  things  as  far  north  as  they'll  travel  before 
dark,  and  at  daylight  start  'em  going  again. 
Where's  your  camp,  anyhow?" 

"None  of  your  business,"  mumbled  the  bug- 
killer  sourly. 

Weary  scanned  the  undulating  slope  beyond  the 
fence,  saw  no  sign  of  a  camp,  and  glanced  uncer 
tainly  at  his  fellows.  "Well,  it  don't  matter  much 
where  it  is;  you  see  to  it  you  don't  sleep  within 
five  miles  of  here,  or  you're  liable  to  have  bad 
dreams.  Hit  the  trail,  now!" 

They  waited  inside  the  fence  until  the  retreat 
ing  sheep  lost  their  individuality  as  blatting  animals, 
ambling  erratically  here  and  there,  while  they  mov 
ed  toward  the  brow  of  the  hill,  and  merged  into  a 
great,  gray  blotch  against  the  faint  green  of  the 
new  grass — a  blotch  from  which  rose  again  that 
vibrant,  sing-song  humming  of  many  voices  min 
gled.  Then  they  rode  back  down  the  coulee  to 

85 


Flying    U    Ranch 

their  own  work,  taking  it  for  granted  that  the  tres 
passing  was  an  incident  which  would  not  be  re 
peated — by  those  particular  sheep,  at  any  rate. 

It  was,  therefore,  with  something  of  a  shock 
that  the  Happy  Family  awoke  the  next  morning  to 
hear  Pink's  melodious  treble  shouting  in  the  bunk- 
house  at  sunrise  next  morning: 

'  'G'wa-a-y  round  "em,  Shep!  Seven  black  ones 
in  the  coulee!"  Men  who  know  well  the  West  are 
familiar  with  that  facetious  call. 

"Ah,  what's  the  matter  with  yuh?"  Irish  raised 
a  rumpled,  brown  head  from  his  pillow,  and  blinked 
sleepily  at  him.  "I've  been  dreaming  I  was  a  sheep- 
herder,  all  night." 

"Well,  you've  got  the  swellest  chance  in  the  world 
to  'make  every  dream  come  true,  dearie/  "  Pink  re 
torted.  "The  whole  blamed  coulee's  full  uh  sheep. 
I  woke  up  a  while  ago  and  thought  I  just  imag 
ined  I  heard  'em  again;  so  I  went  out  to  take  a 
look — or  a  smell,  it  was — and  they're  sure  enough 
there!" 

86 


Flying    U    Ranch 

Weary  swung  one  long  leg  out  from  under  his 
blankets  and  reached  for  his  clothes.  He  did  not 
say  anything,  but  his  face  portended  trouble  for 
the  invaders. 

"Say!"  cried  Big  Medicine,  coming  out  of  his 
bunk  as  if  it  were  afire,  "I  tell  yuh  right  now  them 
blattin'  human  apes  wouldn't  git  gay  around  here 
if  /  was  runnin'  this  outfit.  The  way  I'd  have  of 
puttin'  them  sheep  on  the  run  wouldn't  be  slow, 
by  cripes!  I'll  guarantee " 

By  then  the  bunk-house  was  buzzing  with  voices, 
and  there  was  none  to  give  heed  to  Big  Medicine's 
blatant  boasting.  Others  there  were  who  seemed 
rather  inclined  to  give  Weary  good  advice  while 
they  pulled  on  their  boots  and  sought  for  their 
gloves  and  rolled  early-morning  cigarettes,  and  oth 
erwise  prepared  themselves  for  what  Fate  might 
have  waiting  for  them  outside  the  door. 

"Are  you  sure  they're  in  the  coulee,  Cadwallop- 
er?"  Weary  asked,  during  a  brief  lull.  "They 
could  be  up  on  the  hill " 

87 


Flying    U     Ranch 

"Hell,  yes!"  was  Pink's  forceful  answer.  "They 
could  be  on  the  hill,  but  they  ain't.  Why,  darn  it, 
they're  straggling  into  the  little  pasture!  I  could 
see  'em  from  the  stable.  They " 

"Come  and  eat  your  breakfast  first,  boys,  any 
way."  Weary  had  his  hand  upon  the  door-knob. 
"A  few  minutes  more  won't  make  any  difference, 
one  way  or  the  other."  He  went  out  and  over  to 
the  mess-house  to  see  if  Patsy  had  the  coffee  ready; 
for  this  was  a  good  three-quarters  of  an  hour  earlier 
than  the  Flying  U  outfit  usually  bestirred  them 
selves  on  these  days  of  preparation  for  roundup 
and  waiting  for  good  grass. 

"I'll  be  darned  if  I'd  be  as  calm  as  ne  is,"  Cal 
Emmett  muttered  while  the  door  was  being  closed. 
"Good  thing  the  Old  Man  ain't  here,  now.  He'd  go 
straight  up  in  the  air.  He  wouldn't  wait  for  no 
breakfast." 

"I  betche  there'll  be  a  killin'  yet,  before  we're 
through  with  them  sheep,"  gloomed  Happy  Jack. 

88 


Flying    U     Ranch 

"When  sheepherders  starts  in  once  to  be  ornery, 
there  ain't  no  way  uh  stoppin'  'em  except  by  killin' 
'em  off.  And  that'll  mean  the  pen  for  a  lot  of  us 
fellers " 

"Well,  by  golly,  it  won't  be  me,"  Slim  declared 
loudly.  "Yuh  wouldn't  ketch  me  goin'  t'  jail  for 
no  doggone  sheepherder.  They  oughta  be  a  bounty 
on  'em  by  rights." 

"Seems  queer  they'd  be  right  back  here  this 
morning,  after  being  hazed  out  yesterday  after 
noon,"  said  Andy  Green  thoughtfully.  "Looks  like 
they're  plumb  anxious  to  build  a  lot  of  trouble  for 
themselves." 

Patsy,  thumping  energetically  the  bottom  of  a 
tin  pan,  sent  them  trooping  to  the  mess-house. 
There  it  was  evident  that  the  breakfast  had  been 
unduly  hurried;  there  were  no  biscuits  in  sight, 
for  one  thing,  though  Patsy  was  lumbering  about 
the  stove  frying  hot-cakes.  They  were  in  too  great 
a  hurry  to  wait  for  them,  however.  They  swal- 

89 


Flying    U     Ranch 

lowed  their  coffee  hurriedly,  bolted  a  few  mouth- 
fuls  of  meat  and  fried  eggs,  and  let  it  go  at  that. 

Weary  looked  at  them  with  a  faint  smile.  "I'm 
going  to  give  a  few  of  you  fellows  a  chance  to 
herd  sheep  to-day,"  he  announced,  cooling  his  coffee 
so  that  it  would  not  actually  scald  his  palate. 
"That's  why  I  wanted  you  to  get  some  grub  into 
you.  Some  of  you  fellows  will  have  to  take  the 
trail  up  on  the  hill,  and  meet  us  outside  the  fence, 
so  when  we  chase  'em  through  you  can  make  a  good 
job  of  it  this  time.  I  wonder " 

"You  don't  need  to  call  out  the  troops  for  that 
job ;  one  man  is  enough  to  put  the  fear  uh  the  Lord 
into  them  herders,"  Andy  remarked  slightingly. 
"Once  they're  on  the  move " 

"All  right,  my  boy;  we'll  let  you  be  the  man," 
Weary  told  him  promptly.  "I  was  going  to  have  a 
bunch  of  you  take  a  packadero  outfit  down  toward 
Boiler  Bottom  and  comb  the  breaks  along  there  for 
horses — and  I  sure  do  hate  to  spend  the  whole  day 
chasing  sheepherders  around  over  the  country.  So 

90 


Flying    U     Ranch 

we'll  haze  'em  through  the  fence  again,  and,  seeing 
you  feel  that  way  about  it,  I'll  let  you  go  around 
and  keep  'em  going.  And,  if  you  locate  their  camp, 
kinda  impress  it  on  the  tender,  if  you  can  round  him 
up,  that  the  Flying  U  ain't  pasturing  sheep  this 
spring.  No  matter  what  kinda  talk  he  puts  up, 
you  put  the  run  on  'em  till  you  see  'em  across  One- 
Man  coulee.  Better  have  Patsy  put  you  up  a  lunch 
— unless  you're  fond  of  mutton." 

Andy  twisted  his  mouth  disgustedly.  "Say,  I'm 
going  to  quit  handing  out  any  valuable  advice  to 
you,  Weary,"  he  expostulated. 

"Havf-ha.w-ha'w-w-w !"  laughed  Big  Medicine, 
and  slapped  Andy  on  the  shoulder  so  that  his  face 
almost  came  in  contact  with  his  plate.  "Yuh  will 
try  to  work  some  innercent  man  into  sheepherdin', 
will  yuh?  Haw-haw-/uzw-w/  You'll  come  in  to 
night  blattin' — if  yuh  don't  stay  out  on  the  range 
tryin'  t'  eat  grass,  by  cripes!  Andy  had  a  little 
lamb  that  follered  him  around " 


Flying    U    Ranch 

"Better  let  Bud  take  that  herdin'  job,  Weary," 
Andy  suggested.  "It  won't  hurt  him — he's  blattin' 
already." 

"If  you  think  you're  liable  to  need  somebody 
along,"  Weary  began,  soft-heartedly  relenting, 
"why,  I  guess " 

"If  I  can't  handle  two  crazy  sheepherders  with 
out  any  help,  by  gracious,  I'll  get  me  a  job  holdin' 
yarn  in  an  old  ladies'  home,"  Andy  cut  in  hastily, 
and  got  up  from  the  table.  "Being  a  truthful  man, 
I  can't  say  I'm  stuck  on  the  job;  but  I'm  game  for 
it.  And  I'll  promise  you  there  won't  be  no  more 
sheep  of  that  brand  lickin'  our  doorsteps.  What 
darned  outfit  is  it,  anyway?  I  never  bumped  into 
any  Dot  sheep  before,  to  my  knowledge." 

"It's  a  new  one  on  me,"  Weary  testified,  heading 
the  procession  down  to  the  stable.  "If  they  be 
longed  anywhere  in  this  part  of  the  country,  though, 
they  wouldn't  be  acting  the  way  they  are.  They'd 
be  wise  to  the  fact  that  it  ain't  healthy." 

92 


Flying    U    Ranch 

Even  while  he  spoke  his  eyes  were  fixed  with 
cold  intensity  upon  a  fringe  of  gray  across  the 
coulee  below  the  little  pasture.  To  the  nostrils  of 
the  outraged  Happy  Family  was  borne  that  inde 
scribable  aroma  which  betrays  the  presence  of 
sheep;  that  aroma  which  sheepmen  love  and  which 
cattlemen  hate,  and  which  a  favorable  wind  will 
carry  a  long  way. 

They  slapped  saddles  on  their  horses  in  record 
time  that  morning,  and  raced  down  the  coulee  iron 
ically  shouting  commiserating  sentences  to  the  un 
fortunate  Andy,  who  rode  slowly  up  to  the  mess- 
house  for  the  lunch  which  Patsy  had  waiting  for 
him  in  a  flour  sack,  and  afterward  climbed  the 
grade  and  loped  along  outside  the  line  fence  to  a 
point  opposite  the  sheep  and  the  shouting  horsemen, 
who  forced  them  back  by  weight  of  numbers. 

This  morning  the  herders  were  not  quite  so  pas 
sive.  The  bug-killer  still  scowled,  but  he  spoke 
without  the  preliminary  sulky  silence  of  the  day  be 
fore. 

93 


Flying    U     Ranch 

"We're  goin'  across  the  coulee,"  he  growled. 
"Them's  orders.  We  range  south  uh  here." 

"No,  you  don't,"  Weary  dissented  calmly.  "Not 
by  a  long  shot,  you  don't.  You're  going  back  where 
you  come  from — if  you  ask  me.  And  you're  going 
quick!" 


94 


CHAPTER   VI 

What  Happened  to  Andy 

With  the  sun  shining  comfortably  upon  his  back, 
and  with  a  cigarette  between  his  lips,  Andy  sat 
upon  his  horse  and  watched  in  silent  glee  while 
the  irate  Happy  Family  scurried  here  and  there  be 
hind  the  band,  swinging  their  ropes  down  upon 
the  woolly  backs,  and  searching  their  vocabularies 
for  new  and  terrible  epithets.  Andy  smiled  broadly 
as  a  colorful  phrase  now  and  then  boomed  across 
the  coulee  in  that  clear,  snappy  atmosphere,  which 
carries  sounds  so  far.  He  did  not  expect  to  do 
much  smiling  upon  his  own  account,  that  day,  and 
he  was  therefore  grateful  for  the  opportunity  to 
behold  the  spectacle  before  him. 

There  was  Slim,  for  instance,  unwillingly  careen 
ing  down  hill  toward  home,  because,  in  his  zeal  to 
slap  an  old  ewe  smartly  with  his  rope,  he  drove  her 

95 


Flying    U    Ranch 

unexpectedly  under  his  horse,  and  so  created  a  mo 
mentary  panic  that  came  near  standing  both  horse 
and  rider  upon  their  heads.  And  there  was  Big 
Medicine  whistling  until  he  was  purple,  while  the 
herder,  with  a  single  gesture,  held  the  dog  motion 
less,  though  a  dozen  sheep  broke  back  from  the 
band  and  climbed  a  slope  so  steep  that  Big  Medicine 
was  compelled  to  go  after  them  afoot,  and  turn 
them  with  stones  and  profane  objurgations. 

It  was  very  funny — when  one  could  sit  at  ease 
upon  the  hilltop  and  smoke  a  cigarette  while  others 
risked  apoplexy  and  their  souls'  salvation  below. 
By  the  time  they  panted  up  the  last  rock-strewn 
slope  of  the  bluff,  and  sent  the  vanguard  of  the  in 
vaders  under  the  fence,  Andy's  mood  was  compla 
cent  in  the  extreme,  and  his  smile  offensively  wide. 

"Oh,  you  needn't  look  so  sorry  for  us,"  drawled 
the  Native  Son,  jingling  over  toward  him  until 
only  the  fence  and  a  few  feet  of  space  divided  them. 
"Here's  where  you  get  yours,  amigo.  I  wish  you 
a  pleasant  day — and  a  long  one!"  He  waved  his 

96 


Flying    U     Ranch 

hand  in  mocking  adieu,  touched  his  horse  with  his 
silver  spurs,  and  rode  gaily  away  down  the  coulee. 

"Here,  sheepherder's  your  outfit.  Ma-aa-o-a/" 
jeered  Big  Medicine.  "You'll  wisht,  by  cripes,  you 
was  a  dozen  men  just  like  yuh  before  you're 
through  with  the  deal.  Haw-haw-haw-w !" 

There  were  others  who,  seeing  Andy's  grin,  had 
something  to  say  upon  the  subject  before  they  left. 

Weary  rode  up,  and  looked  undecidedly  from 
Andy  to  the  sheep,  and  back  again. 

"If  you  don't  feel  like  tackling  it  single-handed, 
I'll  Send " 

"What  do  yuh  think  I  am,  anyway?"  Andy  in 
terrupted  crisply,  "a  Montgomery  Ward  two-for-a- 
quarter  cowpuncher?  Don't  you  fellows  waste  any 
time  worrying  over  me!" 

The  herders  stared  at  Andy  curiously  when  he 
swung  in  behind  the  tail-end  of  the  band  and  kept 
pace  with  their  slow  moving,  but  they  did  not  speak 
beyond  shouting  an  occasional  command  to  their 
dogs.  Neither  did  Andy  have  anything  to  say,  un- 

97 


Flying    U     Ranch 

til  he  saw  that  they  were  swinging  steadily  to  the 
west,  instead  of  keeping  straight  north,  as  they  had 
been  told  to  do.  Then  he  rode  over  to  the  nearest 
herder,  who  happened  to  be  the  bug-killer. 

"You  don't  want  to  get  turned  around,"  he 
hinted  quietly.  "That's  north,  over  there." 

"I'm  workin'  fer  the  man  that  pays  my  wages," 
the  fellow  retorted  glumly,  and  waved  an  arm  to  a 
collie  that  was  waiting  for  orders.  The  dog 
dropped  his  head,  and  ran  around  the  right  wing 
of  the  band,  with  sharp  yelps  and  dartings  here  and 
there,  turning  them  still  more  to  the  west. 

Andy  hesitated,  decided  to  leave  the  man  alone 
for  the  present,  and  rode  around  to  the  other 
herder. 

"You  swing  these  sheep  north!"  he  commanded, 
disdaining  preface  or  explanation. 

"I'm  workin'  for  the  man  that  pays  my  wages," 
the  herder  made  answer  stolidly,  and  chewed  stead 
ily  upon  a  quid  of  tobacco  that  had  stained  his  lips 
unbecomingly. 

98 


Flying    U     Ranch 

So  they  had  talked  the  thing  over — had  those 
two  herders — and  were  following  a  premeditated 
plan  of  defiance!  Andy  looked  at  the  man  a  min 
ute.  "You  turn  them  sheep,  damn  you,"  he  com 
manded  again,  and  laid  a  hand  upon  his  saddle- 
horn  suggestively. 

"You  go  to  the  devil,  damn  yuh,"  advised  the 
herder,  and  cocked  a  wary  eye  at  him  from  under 
his  hat-brim.  Not  all  herders,  let  it  be  said  in  pass 
ing,  take  unto  themselves  the  mental  attributes  of 
their  sheep;  there  are  those  who  believe  that  a  bold 
front  is  better  than  weak  compliance,  and  who  will 
back  that  belief  by  a  very  bold  front  indeed. 

Andy  appraised  him  mentally,  decided  that  he 
was  an  able-bodied  man  and  therefore  fightable, 
and  threw  his  right  leg  over  the  cantle  with  a  quite 
surprising  alacrity. 

"Are  you  going  to  turn  them  sheep?"  Andy  was 
taking  off  his  coat  when  he  made  that  inquiry. 

"Not  for  your  tellin'.  You  keep  back,  young 
feller,  or  I'll  sick  the  dogs  on  yuh."  He  turned  and 

99 


Flying    U     Ranch 

whistled  to  the  nearest  one,  and  Andy  hit  him  on 
the  ear. 

They  clinched  and  pummeled  when  they  could 
and  where  they  could.  The  dog  came  up,  circled 
the  gyrating  forms  twice,  then  sat  down  upon  his 
haunches  at  a  safe  distance,  tilted  his  head  side- 
wise  and  lifted  his  ears  interestedly.  He  was  a 
wise  little  dog;  the  other  dog  was  also  wise,  and 
remained  phlegmatically  at  his  post,  as  did  the  bug- 
killer. 

"Are  you  going  to  turn  them  sheep?"  Andy 
spoke  breathlessly,  but  with  deadly  significance. 

"N-yes." 

Andy  took  his  fingers  from  the  other's  Adam's 
apple,  his  knee  from  the  other's  diaphragm,  and 
went  over  to  where  he  had  thrown  down  his  coat, 
felt  in  a  pocket  for  his  handkerchief,  and,  when  he 
had  found  it,  applied  it  to  his  nose,  which  was 
bleeding  profusely. 

"Fly  at  it,  then,"  he  advised,  eyeing  the  other 
100 


Flying    U    Ranch 

sternly  over  the  handkerchief.  "I'd  hate  to  ask  you 
a  third  time." 

"I'd  hate  to  have  yuh,"  conceded  the  herder  re 
luctantly.  "I  was  sure  I  c'd  lick  yuh,  or  I'd  'a' 
turned  'em  before."  He  sent  the  dog  racing  down 
the  south  line  of  the  band. 

Andy  got  thoughtfully  back  upon  his  horse,  and 
sat  looking  hard  at  the  herder.  "Say,  you're  grade 
above  the  general  run  uh  lamb-lickers,"  he  ob 
served,  after  a  minute.  "Who  are  you  working 
for,  and  what's  your  object  in  throwing  sheep  on 
Flying  U  land?  There's  plenty  of  range  to  the 
north." 

"I'm  workin',"  said  the  herder,  "for  the  Dot  out 
fit.  I  thought  you  could  read  brands." 

"Don't  get  sassy — I've  got  a  punch  or  two  I 
haven't  used  yet.  Who  owns  these  woollies?" 

"Well — Whittaker  and  Oleson,  if  yuh  want  to 
know." 

"I  do."  Andy  was  keeping  pace  with  him 
around  the  band,  which  edged  off  from  them  and 

101 


Flying    U    Ranch 

the  dogs.  "And  what  makes  you  so  crazy  about 
Flying  U  grass?"  he  pursued. 

"We've  got  to  cross  that  coulee  to  git  to  where 
we're  headed  for;  we  got  a  right  to,  and  we're  go 
ing  to  do  it."  The  herder  paused  and  glanced  up 
at  Andy  sourly.  "We  knowed  you  was  a  mean  out 
fit;  the  boss  told  us  so.  And  he  told  us  you  was 
blank  ca'tridges  and  we  needn't  back  up  just  'cause 
you  raised  up  on  your  hind  legs  and  howled  a  little. 
I've  had  truck  with  you  cowmen  before.  I've 
herded  sheep  in  Wyoming."  He  walked  a  few 
steps  with  his  head  down,  considering. 

"I  better  go  over  and  talk  some  sense  into  the 
other  fellow,"  he  said,  looking  up  at  Andy  as  if 
all  his  antagonism  had  oozed  in  the  fight.  "You 
ride  along  this  edge,  so  they  won't  scatter — we 
ought  to  be  grazin'  'em  along,  by  rights;  only  you 
seem  to  be  in  such  an  all-fired  rush " 

"You  go  on  and  tell  that  loco  son-of-a-gun  over 
there  what  he's  up  against,"  Andy  urged.  "Blank 
cartridges — I  sure  do  like  that!  If  you  only  knew 

1 02 


Flying    U     Ranch 

it,  high  power  dum-dums  would  be  a  lot  closer  to 
our  brand.  Run  along — I  am  in  a  kinda  hurry, 
this  morning." 

Andy,  riding  slowly  upon  the  outskirts  of  the 
grazing,  blatting  band,  watched  the  two  confer 
earnestly  together  a  hundred  yards  or  so  away. 
They  seemed  to  be  having  some  sort  of  argument; 
the  bug-killer  gesticulated  with  the  long  stick  he 
carried,  and  the  sheep,  while  the  herders  talked, 
scattered  irresponsibly.  Andy  wondered  what 
made  sheepmen  so  "ornery,"  particularly  herders. 
He  wondered  why  the  fellow  he  had  thrashed  was 
so  insultingly  defiant  at  first,  and,  after  the  thrash 
ing,  so  unresentful  and  communicative,  and  so 
amenable  to  authority  withal.  He  felt  his  nose, 
and  decided  that  it  was,  all  things  considered,  a 
cheap  victory,  and  yet  one  of  which  he  need  not 
be  ashamed. 

The  herder  came  back  presently  and  helped  drive 
the  sheep  over  the  edge  of  the  bluff  which  bordered 
Antelope  coulee.  The  bug-killer,  upon  his  side,  also 

103 


Flying    U     Ranch 

seemed  imbued  with  the  spirit  of  obedience;  Andy 
heard  him  curse  a  collie  into  frenzied  zeal,  and 
smiled  approvingly. 

"Now  you're  acting  a  heap  more  human,"  he 
observed;  and  the  man  from  Wyoming  grinned 
ruefully  by  way  of  reply. 

Antelope  coulee,  at  that  point,  was  steep;  too 
steep  for  riding,  so  that  Andy  dismounted  and  dug 
his  boot-heels  into  the  soft  soil,  to  gain  a  foothold 
on  the  descent.  When  he  was  halfway  down,  he 
chanced  to  look  back,  straight  into  the  scowling 
gaze  of  the  bug-killer,  who  was  sliding  down  be 
hind  him. 

"Thought  you  were  hazing  down  the  other  side 
of  'em,"  Andy  called  back,  but  the  herder  did  not 
choose  to  answer  save  with  another  scowl. 

Andy  edged  his  horse  around  an  impracticable 
slope  of  shale  stuff  and  went  on.  The  herder  fol 
lowed.  When  he  was  within  twelve  feet  or  so  of 
the  bottom,  there  was  a  sound  of  pebbles  knocked 
loose  in  haste,  a  scrambling,  and  then  came  the 

104 


"OH,   IT  AIN'T  GOIN'  TO  DO  YUH  NO  GOOD  TO  BUCK'N  BAWL." 


P.  105 


Flying    U    Ranch 

impact  of  his  body.  Andy  teetered,  lost  his  bal 
ance,  and  went  to  the  bottom  in  one  glorious  slide. 
He  landed  with  the  bug-killer  on  top — and  the  bug- 
killer  failed  to  remove  his  person  as  speedily  as 
true  courtesy  exacted. 

Andy  kicked  and  wriggled  and  tried  to  remem 
ber  what  was  that  high-colored,  vituperative  sen 
tence  that  Irish  had  invented  over  a  stubborn  sheep, 
that  he  might  repeat  it  to  the  bug-killer.  The 
herder  from  Wyoming  ran  up,  caught  Andy's 
horse,  and  untied  Andy's  rope  from  the  saddle. 

"Good  fer  you,  Oscar,"  he  praised  the  bug-killer. 
"Hang  onto  him  while  I  take  a  few  turns."  He 
thereupon  helped  force  Andy's  arms  to  his  side, 
and  wound  the  rope  several  times  rather  tightly 
around  Andy's  outraged,  squirming  person. 

"Oh,  it  ain't  goin'  to  do  yuh  no  good  to  buck  'n 
bawl,"  admonished  the  tier.  "I  learnt  this  here  lit 
tle  trick  down  in  Wyoming.  A  bunch  uh  punchers 
done  it  to  me — and  I've  been  just  achin'  all  over 
fer  a  chance  to  return  the  favor  to  some  uh  you 

105 


Flying    U    Ranch 

gay  boys.  And,"  he  added,  with  malicious  satis 
faction,  while  he  rolled  Andy  over  and  tied  a  per 
fectly  unslippable  knot  behind,  "it  gives  me  great 
pleasure  to  hand  the  dose  out  to  you,  in  p'ticular. 
If  I  was  a  mean  man,  I'd  hand  yuh  the  boot  a  few 
times  f er  luck ;  but  I'll  save  that  up  till  next  time." 

"You  can  bet  your  sweet  life  there'll  be  a  next 
time,"  Andy  promised  earnestly,  with  embellish 
ments  better  suited  to  the  occasion  than  to  a  chil 
dren's  party. 

"Well,  when  it  arrives  I'm  sure  Johnny-on-the- 
spot.  Them  Wyoming  punchers  beat  me  up  after 
they'd  got  me  tied.  I'm  tellin'  yuh  so  you'll  see  I 
ain't  mean  unless  I'm  drove  to  it.  Turn  him  feet 
down  hill,  Oscar,  so  he  won't  git  a  rush  uh  brains 
to  the  head  and  die  on  our  hands.  Now  you're 
goin'  to  mind  your  own  business,  sonny.  Next 
time  yuh  set  out  to  herd  sheep,  better  see  the  boss 
first  and  git  on  the  job  right." 

He  rose  to  his  feet,  surveyed  Andy  with  his 
hands  on  his  hips,  mentally  pronounced  the  job 

106 


Flying    U    Ranch 

well  done,  and  took  a  generous  chew  of  tobacco, 
after  which  he  grinned  down  at  the  trussed  one. 

"That  the  language  uh  flowers  you're  talkin'?" 
he  inquired  banteringly,  before  he  turned  his  atten 
tion  to  the  horse,  which  he  disposed  of  by  tying  up 
the  reins  and  giving  it  a  slap  on  the  rump.  When 
it  had  trotted  fifty  yards  down  the  coulee  bottom, 
and  showed  a  disposition  to  go  farther,  he  whistled 
to  his  dogs,  and  turned  again  to  Andy. 

"This  here  is  just  a  hint  to  that  bunch  you  trot 
with,  to  leave  us  and  our  sheep  alone,"  he  said. 
"We  don't  pick  no  quarrels,  but  we're  goin'  to  cross 
our  sheep  wherever  we  dern  please,  to  git  where 
we  want  to  go.  Gawd  didn't  make  this  range  and 
hand  it  over  to  you  cowmen  to  put  in  yer  pockets — 
I  guess  there's  a  chance  fer  other  folks  to  hang  on 
by  their  eyebrows,  anyway." 

Andy,  lying  there  like  a  very  good  presentation 
of  a  giant  cocoon,  roped  round  and  round,  with 
his  arms  pinned  to  his  sides,  had  the  doubtful  pleas 
ure  of  seeing  that  noisome,  foolish-faced  band  trail 

107 


Flying    U     Ranch 

down  Antelope  coulee  and  back  upon  the  level  they 
had  just  left,  and  of  knowing  to  a  gloomy  certainty 
that  he  could  do  nothing  about  it,  except  swear; 
and  even  that  palls  when  a  man  has  gone  over  his 
entire  repertoire  three  times  in  rapid  succession. 

Andy,  therefore,  when  the  last  sheep  had  trotted 
out  of  sight,  hearing  and  smell,  wriggled  himself 
into  as  comfortable  a  position  as  his  bonds  would 
permit,  and  took  a  nap. 


108 


CHAPTER   VII 

Truth  Crushed  to  Earth,  etc. 

Andy,  only  half  awake,  tried  to  obey  both  in 
stinct  and  habit  and  reach  up  to  pull  his  hat 
down  over  his  eyes,  so  that  the  sun  could  not  shine 
upon  his  lids  so  hotly;  when  he  discovered  that  he 
could  do  no  more  than  wiggle  his  fingers,  he  came 
back  with  a  jolt  to  reality  and  tried  to  sit  up.  It  is 
surprising  to  a  man  to  discover  suddenly  just  how 
important  a  part  his  arms  play  in  the  most  simple 
of  body  movements ;  Andy,  with  his  arms  pinioned 
tightly  the  whole  length  of  them,  rolled  over  on 
his  face,  kicked  a  good  deal,  and  rolled  back  again, 
but  he  did  not  sit  up,  as  he  had  confidently  expected 
to  do. 

He  lay  absolutely  quiet  for  at  least  five  minutes, 
staring  up  at  the  brilliant  blue  arch  above  him. 
Then  he  began  to  speak  rapidly  and  earnestly;  a 

109 


Flying    U     Ranch 

man  just  close  enough  to  hear  his  voice  sweeping 
up  to  a  certain  rhetorical  climax,  pausing  there 
and  commencing  again  with  a  rhythmic  fluency  of 
intonation,  might  have  thought  that  he  was  repeat 
ing  poetry;  indeed,  it  sounded  like  some  of  Milton's 
majestic  blank  verse,  but  it  was  not.  Andy  was 
engaged  in  a  methodical,  scientific,  reprehensibly 
soul-satisfying  period  of  swearing. 

A  curlew,  soaring  low,  with  long  beak  out 
stretched  before  him,  and  long  legs  outstretched  be 
hind  cast  a  beady  eye  upon  him,  and  shrilled  "Cor- 
rcck!  Cor-reck!"  in  unregenerate  approbation  of 
the  blasphemy. 

Andy  stopped  suddenly  and  laughed.  "Glad 
you  agree  with  me,  old  sport,"  he  addressed  the  bird 
whimsically,  with  a  reaction  to  his  normally  cheer 
ful  outlook.  "Sheepherders  are  all  those  things  I 
named  over,  birdie,  and  some  that  I  can't  think  of 
at  present." 

He  tried  again,  this  time  with  a  more  careful 
realization  of  his  limitations,  to  assume  an  upright 

no 


Flying    U     Ranch 

position;  and  being  a  persevering  young  man,  and 
one  with  a  ready  wit,  he  managed  at  length  to 
wriggle  himself  back  upon  the  slope  from  which 
he  had  slid  in  his  sleep,  and,  by  digging  in  his  heels 
and  going  carefully,  he  did  at  last  rise  upon  his 
knees,  and  from  there  triumphantly  to  his  feet 

He  had  at  first  believed  that  one  of  the  herders 
would,  in  the  course  of  an  hour  or  so,  return  and 
untie  him,  when  he  hoped  to  be  able  to  retrieve,  in 
a  measure,  his  self-respect,  which  he  had  lost  when 
the  first  three  feet  of  his  own  rope  had  encircled 
him.  To  be  tied  and  trussed  by  sheepherders ! 
Andy  gritted  his  teeth  and  started  down  the  coulee. 

He  was  hungry,  and  his  lunch  was  tied  to  his 
saddle.  He  looked  eagerly  down  the  coulee,  in  the 
faint  hope  of  seeing  his  horse  grazing  somewhere 
along  its  length,  until  the  numbness  of  his  arms 
and  hands  reminded  him  that  forty  lunches,  tied 
upon  forty  saddles  at  his  side,  would  be  of  no  use 
to  him  in  his  present  position.  His  hands  he  could 
not  move  from  his  thighs;  he  could  wiggle  his 

in 


Flying    U     Ranch 

fingers — which  he  did,  to  relieve  as  much  as  possi 
ble  that  unpleasant,  prickly  sensation  which  we  call 
a  "going  to  sleep"  of  the  afflicted  members.  When 
it  occurred  to  him  that  he  could  not  do  anything 
with  his  horse  if  he  found  it,  he  gave  up  looking 
for  it  and  started  for  the  ranch,  walking  awk 
wardly,  because  of  his  bonds,  the  sun  shining  hotly 
upon  his  brown  head,  because  his  hat  had  been 
knocked  off  in  the  scuffle,  and  he  could  not  pick  it 
up  and  put  it  back  where  it  belonged. 

Taking  a  straight  course  across  the  prairie,  he 
struck  Flying  U  coulee  at  the  point  where  the  sheep 
had  left  it.  On  the  way  there  he  had  crossed  their 
trail  where  they  went  through  the  fence  farther 
along  the  coulee  than  before,  and  therefore  with 
a  better  chance  of  passing  undetected;  especially 
since  the  Happy  Family,  believing  that  he  was  forc 
ing  them  steadily  to  the  north,  would  not  be  watch 
ing  for  sheep.  The  barbed  wire  barrier  bothered 
him  somewhat.  He  was  compelled  to  lie  down  and 
roll  under  the  fence,  in  the  most  undignified  man- 

112 


Flying    U     Ranch 

ner,  and,  when  he  was  through,  there  was  the  prob 
lem  of  getting  upon  his  feet  again.  But  he  man 
aged  it  somehow,  and  went  on  down  the  coulee, 
perspiring  with  the  heat  and  a  bitter  realization  of 
his  ignominy.  What  the  Happy  Family  would  have 
to  say  when  they  saw  him,  even  Andy  Green's  vivid 
imagination  declined  to  picture. 

He  knew  by  the  sun  that  it  was  full  noon  when 
he  came  in  sight  of  the  stable  and  corrals,  and  his 
soul  sickened  at  the  thought  of  facing  that  derisive 
bunch  of  punchers,  with  their  fiendish  grins  and 
their  barbed  tongues.  But  he  was  hungry,  and  his 
arms  had  reached  the  limit  of  prickly  sensations 
and  were  numb  to  his  shoulders.  He  shook  his 
hair  back  from  his  beaded  forehead,  cast  a  wary 
glance  at  the  silent  stables,  set  his  jaw,  and  went  on 
up  the  hill  to  the  mess-house,  wishing  tardily  that 
he  had  waited  until  they  were  off  at  work  again, 
when  he  might  intimidate  old  Patsy  into  keeping 
quiet  about  his  predicament. 

Within  the  mess-house  was  the  clatter  of  knives 

"3 


Flying    U    Ranch 

% 

and  forks  plied  by  hungry  men,  the  sound  of  desul 
tory  talk  and  a  savory  odor  of  good  things  to  eat. 
The  door  was  closed.  Andy  stood  before  it  as  a 
guilty-conscienced  child  stands  before  its  teacher; 
clicked  his  teeth  together,  and,  since  he  could  not 
open  the  door,  lifted  his  right  foot  and  gave  it  a 
kick  to  strain  the  hinges. 

Within  were  exclamations  of  astonishment,  si 
lence  and  then  a  heavy  tread.  Patsy  opened  the 
door,  gasped  and  stood  still,  his  eyes  popping  out 
like  a  startled  rabbit. 

"Well,  what's  eating  you?"  Andy  demanded 
querulously,  and  pushed  past  him  into  the  room. 

Not  all  of  the  Happy  Family  were  there.  Cal, 
Jack  Bates,  Irish  and  Happy  Jack  had  gone  into 
the  Bad  Lands  next  to  the  river;  but  there  were 
enough  left  to  make  the  soul  of  Andy  quiver  fore 
bodingly,  and  to  send  the  flush  of  extreme  humilia 
tion  to  his  cheeks. 

The  Happy  Family  looked  at  him  in  stunned  sur 
prise;  then  they  glanced  at  one  another  in  swift, 

114 


Flying    U    Ranch 

wordless  inquiry,  grinned  wisely  and  warily,  and 
went  on  with  their  dinner.  At  least  they  pretended 
to  go  on  with  their  dinner,  while  Andy  glared  at 
them  with  amazed  reproach  in  his  misleadingly 
honest  gray  eyes. 

"When  you've  got  plenty  of  time,"  he  said  at  last 
in  a  choked  tone,  "maybe  one  of  you  obliging  cusses 
will  untie  this  damned  rope." 

"Why,  sure!"  Pink  threw  a  leg  over  the  bench 
and  got  up  with  cheerful  alacrity.  "I'll  do  it 
now,  if  you  say  so;  I  didn't  know  but  what  that 
was  some  new  fad  of  yours,  like " 

"Fad!"  Andy  repeated  the  word  like  an  explo 
sion. 

"Well,  by  golly,  Andy  needn't  think  I'm  goin'  to 
foller  that  there  style,"  Slim  stated  solemnly.  "I 
need  m'  rope  for  something  else  than  to  tie  m' 
clothes  on  with." 

"I  sure  do  hate  to  see  a  man  wear  funny  things 
just  to  make  himself  conspicuous,"  Pink  observed, 
while  he  fumbled  at  the  knot,  which  was  intricate. 


Flying    U    Ranch 

Andy  jerked  away  from  him  that  he  might  face 
him  ragefully. 

"Maybe  this  looks  funny  to  you,"  he  cried, 
husky  with  wrath.  "But  I  can't  seem  to  see  the 
joke,  myself.  I  admit  I  let  them  herders  make  a 
monkey  of  me.  .  .  .  They  slipped  up  behind,  go 
ing  down  into  Antelope  coulee,  and  slid  down  the 
bluff  onto  me;  and,  before  I  could  get  up,  they  got 
me  tied,  all  right.  I  licked  one  of  'em  before  that, 
and  thought  I  had  'em  gentled  down " 

Andy  stopped  short,  silenced  by  that  unexplain- 
able  sense  which  warns  us  when  our  words  are 
received  with  cold  disbelief. 

"Mh-hm — I  thought  maybe  you'd  run  up  against 
a  hostile  jackrabbit,  or  something,"  Pink  purred, 
and  went  back  to  his  place  on  the  bench. 

"Haw-haw-/iaw-w-w/"  came  Big  Medicine's  tar 
dy  bellow.  "That's  more  reasonable  than  the 
sheepherder  story,  by  cripes!" 

Andy  looked  at  them  much  as  he  had  stared  up 
at  the  sky  before  he  began  to  swear — speechlessly, 

116 


Flying    U     Ranch 

with  a  trembling  of  the  muscles  around  his  mouth. 
He  was  quite  white,  considering  how  tanned  he 
was,  and  his  forehead  was  shiny,  with  beads  of 
perspiration  standing  thickly  upon  it. 

"Weary,  I  wish  you'd  untie  this  rope.  I  can't.1' 
He  spoke  still  in  that  peculiar,  husky  tone,  and, 
when  the  last  words  were  out,  his  teeth  went  to 
gether  with  a  snap. 

Weary  glanced  inquiringly  across  at  the  Native 
Son,  who  was  regarding  Andy  steadily,  as  one 
gazes  upon  a  tangled  rope,  looking  for  the  end 
which  will  easiest  lead  to  an  untangling. 

Miguel's  brown  eyes  turned  languidly  to  meet 
the  look.  "You'd  better  untie  him,"  he  advised  in 
his  soft  drawl.  "He  may  not  be  in  the  habit  of 
doing  it — but  he's  telling  the  truth." 

"Untie  me,  Miguel,"  begged  Andy,  going  over  to 
him,  "and  let  me  at  this  bunch." 

"I'll  do  it,"  said  Weary,  and  rose  pacifically.  "I 
kinda  believe  you  myself,  Andy.  But  you  can't 
blame  the  boys  none ;  you've  fooled  'em  till  they're 

117 


Flying    U     Ranch 

dead  shy  of  anything  they  can't  see  through.  And, 
besides,  it  sure  does  look  like  a  plant.  I'd  back  you 
single-handed  against  a  dozen  sheepherders  like 
them  two  we've  been  chasing  around.  If  I  hadn't 
felt  that  way  I  wouldn't  have  sent  yuh  out  alone 
with  'em." 

"Well,  Andy  needn't  think  he's  goin'  to  stick  me 
on  that  there  story,"  Slim  declared  with  brutal  em 
phasis.  "I've  swallered  too  many  baits,  by  golly. 
He's  figurin'  on  gettin'  us  all  out  on  the  war-path, 
runnin'  around  in  circles,  so's't  he  can  give  us  the 
laugh.  I'll  bet,  by  golly,  he  paid  them  herders  to 
tie  him  up  like  that.  He  can't  fool  me!" 

"Say,  Slim,  I  do  believe  your  brains  is  com- 
mencin'  to  sprout!"  Big  Medicine  thumped  him 
painfully  upon  the  back  by  way  of  accenting  the 
compliment.  "You  got  the  idee,  all  right." 

Andy  stood  quiet  while  Weary  unwound  the 
rope;  lifted  his  numbed  arms  with  some  difficulty, 
and  displayed  to  the  doubters  his  rope-creased 
wrists,  and  purple,  swollen  hands. 

118 


Flying    U    Ranch 

"I  couldn't  fight  a  caterpillar  right  now,"  he  said 
thickly.  "Look  at  them  hands!  Do  yuh  call  that 
a  josh?  I've  been  tied  up  like  a  bed-roll  for  five 
hours,  you "  Well,  never  mind,  he  merely  re 
peated  a  part  of  what  he  had  recited  aloud  in  An 
telope  coulee,  the  only  difference  being  that  he  ap 
plied  the  vitriolic  utterances  to  the  Happy  Family 
instead  of  to  sheepherders,  and  that  with  the  sec 
ond  recitation  he  gained  much  in  fluency  and  dra 
matic  delivery. 

It  is  not  nice  for  a  man  to  swear;  to  swear  the 
way  Andy  did,  at  any  rate.  But  the  result  per 
haps  atoned  in  a  measure  for  the  wickedness,  in 
that  the  Happy  Family  were  absolutely  convinced 
of  his  sincerity,  and  the  feelings  of  Andy  greatly 
relieved,  so  that,  when  he  had  for  the  third  time 
that  day  completely  exhausted  his  vocabulary,  he 
sat  down  and  began  to  eat  his  dinner  with  a  keen 
appetite. 

"I  don't  suppose  you  know  where  your  horse 
119 


Flying    U     Ranch 

is  at,  by  this  time,"  Weary  observed,  as  casually  as 
possible,  breaking  a  somewhat  constrained  silence. 

"I  don't — and  I  don't  give  a  darn,"  Andy  snapped 
back.  He  ate  a  few  mouthfuls,  and  added  less  sav 
agely:  "He  wasn't  in  sight,  as  I  came  along.  I 
didn't  follow  the  trail;  I  struck  straight  across  and 
came  down  the  coulee.  He  may  be  at  the  gate,  and 
he  may  be  down  toward  Rogers'." 

Pink  reached  for  a  toothpick,  eyeing  Andy  side 
long;  dimpled  his  cheeks  disarmingly,  and  cleared 
his  throat.  "Please  don't  kill  me  off  when  you  get 
that  pie  swallowed,"  he  began  pacifically.  "Strange 
as  it  may  seem,  I  believe  you,  Andy.  What  I  want 
to  know  is  this :  Who  owns  them  Dots  ?  And 
what  are  they  chasing  all  over  the  Flying  U  range 
for?  It  looks  plumb  malicious,  to  me.  Did  you 
find  out  anything  about  'em,  Andy,  while  you — er — 

while  they "     His  eyes  twinkled  and  betrayed 

him  for  an  arrant  pretender.     (Pink  was  not  afraid 
of  anything  on  earth — least  of  all  Andy  Green.) 

120 


Flying    U     Ranch 

"I  will  kill  yuh  by  inches,  if  I  hear  any  remarks 
out  of  yuh  that  ain't  respectful,"  Andy  promised, 
thawing  to  his  normal  tone,  which  was  pleasant  to 
the  ear.  "I  didn't  find  out  much  about  'em.  The 
fellow  I  licked  told  me  that  Whittaker  and  Oleson 
owned  the  sheep.  He  didn't  say " 

"Well— by— golly!"  Slim  thrust  his  head  for 
ward  belligerently.  "Whittaker !  Well,  what  d'yuh 
think  uh  that!"  He  glared  from  one  face  to  the 
other,  his  gaze  at  last  resting  upon  Weary.  "Say, 
do  yuh  reckon  it's — Dunk?' 

Weary  paid  no  heed  to  Slim.  He  leaned  for 
ward,  his  face  turned  to  Andy  with  that  concentra 
tion  of  attention  which  means  so  much  more  than 
mere  exclamation.  "You're  sure  he  said  Whitta 
ker?"  he  asked. 

His  tone  and  his  attitude  arrested  Andy's  cup 
midway  to  his  mouth.  "Sure — Whittaker  and  Ole 
son.  I  never  heard  of  the  outfit — who's  this  Whit 
taker  person?" 

121 


Flying    U    Ranch 

Weary  settled  back  in  his  place  and  smiled,  but 
his  eyes  had  quite  lost  their  habitually  sunny  ex 
pression. 

"Up  until  four  years  ago,"  he  explained  evenly, 
"he  was  the  Old  Man's  partner.  We  caught  him 
in  some  mighty  dirty  work,  and — well,  he  sold  out 
to  the  Old  Man.  The  old  party  with  the  hoofs  and 
tail  can't  be  everywhere  at  once,  the  way  I've  got 
it  sized  up,  so  he  turns  some  of  his  business  over 
to  other  folks.  Dunk  Whittaker's  his  top  hand." 

"Why,  by  golly,  he  framed  up  a  job  on  the  Gor 
don  boys,  and  railroaded  'em  to  the  pen,  just *' 

"Oh,  that's  the  gazabo!"  Andy's  eyes  shone 
with  enlightenment.  "I've  heard  a  lot  about  Dunk, 
but  I  didn't  know  his  last  name " 

"Say!  I'll  bet  they're  the  outfit  that  bought  out 
Denson.  That's  why  old  Denson  acted  so  queer, 
maybe.  Selling  to  a  sheep  outfit  would  make  the 

old  devil  feel  kinda  uneasy,  talking  to  us " 

Pink's  eyes  were  big  and  purple  with  excitement. 

122 


Flying     U     Ranch 

"And  that  train-load  of  sheep  we  saw  Sunday,  I'll 
bet  is  the  same  identical  outfit." 

"Dunk  Whittaker'd  better  not  try  to  monkey 
with  me,  by  golly!"  Slim's  face  was  lowering. 
"And  he'd  better  not  monkey  with  the  Flying  U 
either.  I'd  pump  him  so  full  uh  holes  he'd  look 
like  a  collander,  by  golly !" 

Weary  got  up  and  started  to  the  door,  his  face 
suddenly  grown  careworn.  "Slim,  you  and  Miguel 
better  go  and  hunt  up  Andy's  horse,"  he  said  with 
a  hint  of  abstraction  in  his  tone,  as  though  his  mind 
was  busy  with  more  important  things.  "Maybe 
Andy'll  feel  able  to  help  you  set  those  posts,  Bud — 
and  you'd  better  go  along  the  upper  end  of  the  lit 
tle  pasture  with  the  wire  stretchers  and  tighten  her 
up ;  the  top  wire  is  pretty  loose,  I  noticed  this  morn 
ing."  His  fingers  fumbled  with  the  door-knob- 

"Want  me  to  do  anything?"  Pink  asked  quizzi 
cally  just  behind  him.  "I  thought  sure  we'd  go 
and  remonstrate  with  them  gay " 

Weary  interrupted  him.  "The  herders  can  wait 
123 


Flying    U    Ranch 

— and,  anyway,  I've  kinda  got  an  idea  Andy  wants 
to  hand  out  his  own  brand  of  poison  to  that  bunch. 
You  and  I  will  take  a  ride  over  to  Benson's  and 
see  what's  going  on  over  there.  Mamma!"  he 
added  fervently,  under  his  breath,  "I  sure  do  wish 
Chip  and  the  Old  Man  were  here !" 


124 


CHAPTER   VIII 
The  Dot  Outfit 

Before  he  laid  him  down  to  sleep,  that  night, 
Weary  had  repeated  to  himself  many  times  and  fer 
vently  that  wish  for  old  J.  G.  Whitmore  and  the 
stout  staff  upon  which  he  was  beginning  more  and 
more  to  lean,  his  brother-in-law,  Chip  Bennett.  As 
matters  stood,  Weary  could  not  even  bring  himself 
to  let  them  know  anything  about  his  trouble — and 
that  the  thing  was  beginning  to  assume  the  form 
and  shape  and  general  malevolent  attributes  of 
Trouble,  Weary  was  forced  to  admit  to  himself. 

Just  at  present  an  unthinking,  unobserving  per 
son  might  pass  over  this  sheep  outfit  as  a  mere  un 
savory  incident;  but  Weary  was  neither  unobserv 
ing  nor  unthinking — nor,  for  the  matter  of  that, 
were  the:  rest  of  the  Happy  Family.  It  needed  no 
Happy  Jack,  with  his  foreboding  nature,  to  point 

125 


Flying    U     Ranch 

out  the  unpleasant  possibilities  that  night  when  the 
committee  of  two  made  their  informal  report  at  the 
supper  table.  • 

They  had  ridden  to  Denson  coulee,  which  was  in 
reality  a  meandering  branch  of  Flying  U  coulee  it 
self.  To  reach  it  one  rode  out  of  Flying  U  coulee 
and  over  a  wide  hill,  and  down  again  to  Benson's. 
But  the  creek — Flying  U  creek — followed  the  de 
vious  turnings  from  Denson  coulee  down  to  the  Fly 
ing  U.  A  long  mile  of  Flying  U  coulee  J.  G.  Whit- 
more  owned  outright.  Another  mile  he  held  under 
no  other  title  save  a  fence.  The  creek  flowed 
through  it  all — but  that  creek  had  its  source  some 
where  up  near  the  head  of  Denson  coulee.  J.  G. 
Whitmore  had,  to  his  regret,  been  unable  to  claim 
the  whole  earth — or  at  least  that  portion  of  it — 
for  his  own;  so,  when  he  was  constrained  to  make 
a  choice,  he  settled  himself  in  the  wider,  more  fer 
tile  coulee,  which  he  thereafter  called  the  Flying  U. 
While  it  is  good  policy  to  locate  as  near  as  possible 
to  the  source  of  those  erratic  little  creeks  which 

126 


Flying    U    Ranch 

water  certain  garden  spots  of  the  northern  range 
land,  it  is  also  well  to  choose  land  that  will  grow 
plenty  of  hay.  J.  G.  Whitmore  chose  the  hayland, 
and  trusted  that  providence  would  insure  the  water 
supply.  Through  all  these  years  Flying  U  creek 
had  never  once  disappointed  him.  Denson,  who 
settled  in  the  tributary  coulee,  had  not  made  any 
difference  in  the  water  supply,  and  his  stock  had 
consisted  of  thirty  or  forty  head  of  cattle  and 
horses. 

When  Denson  sold,  however,  things  might  be 
different.  And,  if  he  had  sold  to  a  sheepman,  the 
change  might  be  unpleasant.  If  he  had  sold  to 
Dunk  Whittaker — the  Flying  U  boys  faced  that 
possibility  just  as  they  would  face  any  other  disas 
ter,  undaunted,  but  grim  and  unsmiling. 

It  was  thus  that  Pink  and  Weary  rode  slowly 
down  into  Denson  coulee.  Two  miles  back  they 
had  passed  the  band  of  Dot  sheep,  feeding  leisurely 
just  without  the  Flying  U  fence,  which  was  the 
southern  boundary.  The  bug-killer  and  the  other 

127 


Flying    U    Ranch 

were  there,  and  they  noted  that  the  features  of 
that  other  bore  witness  to  the  truth  of  Andy's  story 
of  the  fight.  He  regarded  them  with  one  perfectly 
good  eye  and  one  which  was  considerably  swollen, 
and  grinned  a  swollen  grin. 

The  two  had  ridden  ten  paces  past  him  when 
Pink  pulled  up  suddenly.  "I'm  going  to  get  off 
and  lick  that  son-of-a-gun  myself,  just  for  luck," 
he  stated  dispassionately.  "I'm  going  to  lick  'em 
both,"  he  revised  while  he  dismounted. 

"Oh,  come  on,  Cadwalloper,"  Weary  dissuaded. 
"You'll  likely  have  all  the  excitement  you  need, 
without  that." 

"Here,  you  hold  this  fool  cayuse.  No."  He 
shook  his  head,  cutting  short  further  protest. 
"You're  the  boss,  and  you  don't  want  to  mix  in, 
and  that  part  is  all  right.  But  I  ain't  responsible — 
and  I  sure  am  going  to  take  a  fall  or  two  out  of 
these  geesers.  They're  a-w-1  together  too  stuck  on 
themselves  to  suit  me."  Pink  did  not  say  that  he 
was  thinking  of  Andy,  but  nevertheless  a  vivid  rec- 

128 


Flying    U     Ranch 

ollection  of  that  unfortunate  young  man's  rope- 
creased  wrists  and  swollen  hands  sent  him  toward 
the  herder  with  long,  eager  strides. 

Pink  was  not  tall,  and  he  was  slight  and  boyish 
of  build;  also,  his  cherubic  face,  topped  by  tawny 
curls  and  lighted  by  eyes  as  deeply  blue  and  as  in 
nocent  as  a  baby's,  probably  deceived  that  herder, 
just  as  they  had  deceived  many  another.  For  Pink 
was  a  good  deal  like  a  stick  of  dynamite  wrapped 
in  white  tissue  paper  and  tied  with  blue  ribbon; 
and  Weary  was  not  at  all  uneasy  over  the  outcome, 
as  he  watched  Pink  go  clanking  back,  though  he 
loved  him  well. 

Pink  did  not  waste  any  time  or  words  on  the 
preliminaries.  With  a  delightful  frankness  of  pur 
pose  he  pulled  off  his  coat  and  threw  it  on  the 
ground,  as  he  came  up,  sent  his  hat  after  it,  and 
arrived  fist  first. 

The  herder  had  waited  grinning,  and  he  had 
shouted  something  to  Weary  about  spanking  the 
kid  if  Weary  didn't  make  him  behave.  Speedily 

129 


Flying    U     Ranch 

he  became  a  very  surprised  herder,  and  a  distressed 
one  as  well. 

"All  right,"  Pink  remarked,  a  little  quick- 
breathed,  when  the  herder  decided  for  the  third 
time  to  get  up.  "A  friend  of  mine  worked  yuh 
over  a  little,  this  morning,  and  I  just  thought  I'd 
make  a  better  job  than  he  did.  Your  eyes  didn't 
match.  They  will,  now." 

The  herder  mumbled  maledictions  after  him,  but 
Pink  would  not  even  give  him  the  satisfaction  of 
resenting  it. 

"I'd  like  to  have  broken  a  knuckle  against  his  teeth, 
darn  him,"  he  observed  ruefully  when  he  was  in  the 
saddle  again.  "Come  on,  Weary.  It  won't  take 
but  a  minute  to  hand  a  punch  or  two  to  that  bug- 
killer,  and  then  I'll  feel  better.  They've  both  got 
it  coming — come  on!"  This  because  Weary  showed 
a  strong  inclination  to  take  the  trail  and  keep  it  to 
his  destination.  "Well,  I'll  go  alone,  then.  I've 
got  to  kinda  square  myself  for  the  way  I  threw  it 
into  Andy;  and  you  know  blamed  well,  Weary,  they 

130 


Flying    U     Ranch 

played  it  low-down  on  him,  or  they'd  never  have 
got  that  rope  on  him.  And  I'm  going  to  lick 
that " 

"Mamma!  You  sure  are  a  rambunctious  person 
when  you  feel  that  way,"  Weary  made  querulous 
comment ;  but  he  rode  over  with  Pink  to  where  the 
bug-killer  was  standing  with  his  long  stick  held  in 
a  somewhat  menacing  manner,  and  once  more  he 
held  Pink's  horse  for  him. 

Pink  was  gone  longer  this  time,  and  he  came 
back  with  a  cut  lip  and  a  large  lump  on  his  fore 
head;  the  bug-killer  had  thrown  a  small  rock  with 
the  precision  which  comes  of  much  practice — such 
as  stoning  disobedient  dogs,  and  the  like — and, 
when  Pink  rushed  at  him  furiously,  the  herder 
caught  him  very  neatly  alongside  the  head  with  his 
stick.  These  little  amenities  serving  merely  to  whet 
Pink's  appetite  for  battle,  he  stopped  long  enough 
to  thrash  that  particular  herder  very  thoroughly  and 
to  his  own  complete  satisfaction. 

"Well,  I  guess  I'm  ready  to  go  on  now,"  he  ob- 


Flying    U    Ranch 

served,  dimpling  rather  one-sidedly  as  he  got  back 
on  his  horse. 

"I  thought  maybe  you'd  want  to  whip  the  dogs, 
too,"  Weary  told  him  dryly ;  which  was  the  nearest 
he  came  to  expressing  any  disapproval  of  the  inci 
dent.  Weary  was  a  peace-loving  soul,  whenever 
peace  was  compatible  with  self-respect;  and  it 
would  never  have  occurred  to  him  to  punish  strange 
men  as  summarily  as  Pink  had  done. 

"I  would,  if  the  dogs  were  half  as  ornery  as  the 
men,"  Pink  retorted.  "Say,  they  hang  together 
like  bull  snakes  and  rattlers,  don't  they?  If  they 
was  human,  they'd  have  helped  each  other  out — 
but  nothing  doing!  Do  you  reckon  a  man  could 
ride  up  to  a  couple  of  our  bunch,  and  thrash  one 
at  a  time  without  the  other  fellow  having  some 
thing  to  say  about  it?"  He  turned  in  the  saddle 
and  looked  back.  "So  help  me,  Josephine,  I've  got 
a  good  mind  to  go  back  and  lick  them  again,  for 
not  hanging  together  like  they  ought  to."  But 
the  threat  was  an  idle  one,  and  they  went  on  to 

132 


Flying    U     Ranch 

Denson's,  Weary  still  with  that  anxious  look  in 
his  eyes,  and  Pink  quite  complacent  over  his  ex 
ploit. 

In  Denson  coulee  was  an  unwonted  atmosphere 
of  activity ;  heretofore  the  place  had  been  animated 
chiefly  by  young  Densons  engaged  in  the  pursuit 
of  pleasure,  but  now  a  covered  buggy,  evidently 
just  arrived,  bore  mute  witness  to  the  new  order  of 
things.  There  were  more  horses  about  the  place,  a 
covered  wagon  or  two,  three  or  four  men  working 
upon  the  corral,  and,  lastly,  there  was  one  whom 
Weary  recognized  the  moment  he  caught  sight  of 
him. 

"Looks  like  a  sheep  outfit,  all  right,"  he  said 
somberly.  "And,  if  that  ain't  old  Dunk  himself, 
it's  the  devil,  and  that's  next  thing  to  him." 

Dunk,  they  judged,  had  just  arrived  with  another 
man  whom  they  did  not  know :  a  tall  man  with  light 
hair  that  hung  lank  to  his  collar,  a  thin,  sharp- 
nosed  face  and  a  wide  mouth,  which  stretched  easily 
into  a  smile,  but  which  was  none  the  pleasanter  for 

133 


Flying    U    Ranch 

that.  When  he  turned  inquiringly  toward  them 
they  saw  that  he  was  stoop-shouldered;  though  not 
from  any  deformity,  but  from  sheer,  slouching 
lankness.  Dunk  gave  them  a  swift,  sour  look  from 
under  his  eyebrows  and  went  on. 

Weary  rode  straight  past  the  lank  man,  whom 
he  judged  to  be  Oleson,  and  overtook  Dunk  Whit- 
taker  himself. 

"Hello,  Dunk,"  he  said  cheerfully,  sliding  over 
in  the  saddle  so  that  a  foot  hung  free  of  the  stirrup, 
as  men  who  ride  much  have  learned  to  do  when 
they  stop  for  a  chat,  thereby  resting  while  they 
may.  "Back  on  the  old  stamping  ground,  are  you?" 

"Since  you  see  me  here,  I  suppose  I  am,"  Dunk 
made  churlish  response. 

"Do  you  happen  to  own  those  Dot  sheep,  back 
there  on  the  hill?"  Weary  tilted  his  head  toward 
home. 

"I  happen  to  own  half  of  them."  By  then  they 
had  reached  the  gate  and  Dunk  passed  through 
and  started  on  to  the  house. 

134 


Flying    U    Ranch 

"Oh,  don't  be  in  a  rush — come  on  back  and  be 
sociable/'  Weary  called  out,  in  the  mildest  of  tones, 
twisting  the  reins  around  his  saddle-horn  so  that 
he  might  roll  a  cigarette  at  ease. 

Dunk  remembered,  perhaps,  certain  things  he 
had  learned  when  he  was  J.  G.  Whitmore's  partner, 
and  had  more  or  less  to  do  with  the  charter  mem 
bers  of  the  Happy  Family.  He  came  back  and 
stood  by  the  gate,  ungraciously  enough,  to  be  sure ; 
still,  he  came  back.  Weary  smiled  under  cover  of 
lighting  his  cigarette.  Dunk,  by  that  reluctant 
compliance,  betrayed  something  which  Weary  had 
been  rather  anxious  to  know. 

"We've  been  having  a  little  trouble  with  those 
sheep  of  yours,"  Weary  remarked  between  puffs. 
"You've  got  some  poor  excuses  for  humans  herd 
ing  them.  They  drove  the  bunch  across  our  coulee 
just  exactly  three  times.  There  ain't  enough  grass 
left  in  our  lower  field  to  graze  a  prairie  dog."  He 
glanced  back  to  see  where  Pink  was,  saw  that  he 

135 


Flying    U    Ranch 

was  close  behind,  as  was  the  lank  man,  and  spoke 
in  a  tone  that  included  them  all. 

"The  Flying  U  ain't  pasturing  sheep,  this 
spring,"  he  informed  them  pleasantly.  "But,  see 
ing  the  grass  is  eat  up,  we'll  let  yuh  pay  for  it. 
Why  didn't  you  bring  them  in  along  the  trail,  any 
way?" 

"I  didn't  bring  them  in.  I  just  came  down  from 
Butte  to-day.  I  suppose  the  herders  brought  them 
out  where  the  feed  was  best;  they  did  if  they're 
worth  their  wages." 

"They  happened  to  strike  some  feed  that  was 
pretty  expensive.  And,"  he  smiled  down  at  Whit- 
taker  misleadingly,  "you  ought  to  keep  an  eye  on 
those  herders,  or  they  might  let  you  in  for  another 
grass  bill.  The  Flying  U  has  got  quite  a  lot  of 
range,  right  around  here,  you  recollect.  And  we've 
got  plenty  of  cattle  to  eat  it.  We  don't  need  any 
help  to  keep  the  grass  down  so  we  can  ride  through 
it." 

"Now,  look  here,"  began  the  lank  man  with  that 
136 


Flying    U     Ranch 

sort  of  persuasiveness  which  can  turn  instantly  into 
bluster,  "all  this  is  pure  foolishness,  you  know. 
We're  here  to  stay.  We've  bought  this  place,  and 
some  other  land  to  go  with  it,  and  we  expect  to  stay 
right  here  and  make  a  living.  It  happens  that  we 
expect  to  make  a  living  off  of  sheep.  Now,  we 
don't  want  to  start  in  by  quarreling  with  our  neigh 
bors,  and  we  don't  want  our  neighbors  to  start  any 
quarrel  with  us.  All  we  want " 

"Mamma!  You're  taking  a  fine  way  to  make 
us  love  yuh,"  Weary  cut  in  ironically.  "I  know 
what  you  want.  You  want  the  same  as  every  other 
meek  and  lovely  sheepman  wants.  You  want  it 
all — core,  seeds  and  peeling.  Dunk,"  he  said  with 
a  more  impatient  disgust  than  he  was  in  the  habit 
of  showing  for  his  fellowmen,  "this  man's  a 
stranger ;  but  I  should  think  you'd  know  better  than 
to  come  in  here  with  sheep." 

"I  don't  know  why  a  sheep  outfit  isn't  exactly 
as  good  as  a  cow  outfit,  and  I  don't  know  why  they 
haven't  as  much  right  here.  You're  welcome  to 

137 


Flying    U     Ranch 

what  land  you  own,  but  it  always  seemed  to  me  that 
public  land  is  open  to  the  use  of  the  public.  Now, 
as  Oleson  says,  we  expect  to  raise  sheep  here,  and 
we  expect  your  outfit  to  leave  us  alone.  As  far 
as  our  sheep  crossing  your  coulee  is  concerned — I 
don't  know  that  they  did.  But,  if  they  did,  and,  if 
they  did  any  damage,  let  J.  G.  do  the  talking  about 
that.  I  deal  with  the  owners — not  with  the  hired 
men." 

Weary,  you  must  understand,  was  never  a  belli 
cose  young  man.  But,  for  all  that,  he  leaned  over 
and  gave  Dunk  a  slap  on  the  jaw  which  must  have 
stung  considerably — and  the  full  reason  for  his 
violence  lay  four  years  behind  the  two,  when  Dunk 
was  part  owner  of  the  Flying  U,  and  when  his 
sneering  arrogance  had  been  very  hard  to  endure. 

"Are  you  going  to  swallow  that — from  a  hired 
man?"  Weary  inquired,  after  a  minute  during 
which  nothing  whatever  occurred  beyond  the  slow 
reddening  of  Dunk's  face. 

"I'm  not  going  to  fight,  if  that's  what  you  mean," 
138 


Flying    U    Ranch 

Dunk  sneered.  "I  decline  to  bring  myself  down  to 
your  level.  One  doesn't  expect  anything  from  a 
jackass  but  a  bray,  you  know — and  one  doesn't  feel 
compelled  to  bray  because  the  jackass  does."  He 
smiled  that  supercilious  smile  which  Weary  had 
hated  of  old,  and  which,  he  knew,  was  well  used  to 
covering  much  treachery  and  small  meannesses  of 
various  sorts. 

"As  I  said,  if  the  Flying  U  has  any  claim  against 
us,  let  the  owner  present  it  in  the  usual  way." 
Dunk  drew  down  his  black  brows,  lifted  a  corner 
of  his  lip  and  turned  his  back  deliberately  upon 
them. 

Oleson  let  himself  through  the  gate,  which  he 
closed  somewhat  hastily  behind  him.  "I'm  sorry 
you  fellows  seem  to  want  to  make  trouble,"  he  said, 
without  looking  up  from  the  latch,  which  seemed 
somewhat  out  of  repair,  like  the  rest  of  the  Denson 
property.  "That's  a  poor  way  to  start  in  with  new 
neighbors."  He  lifted  his  hat  with  what  Pink  con- 

139 


Flying    U     Ranch 

sidered  insulting  politeness,  and  followed  Dunk  into 
the  house. 

Weary  waited  there  until  they  had  gone  in  and 
closed  the  door,  then  turned  and  rode  back  home 
again,  frowning  thoughtfully  at  the  trail  ahead  of 
them  all  the  way,  and  making  no  reply  to  Pink's 
importunings  for  war. 

"I'd  hate  to  say  you've  lost  your  nerve,  Weary," 
Pink  cried  at  last,  in  sheer  desperation.  "But  why 
the  devil  didn't  you  get  down  and  thump  the  day 
lights  out  of  that  black  son-of-a-gun  ?  I  came 
pretty  near  walking  into  him  myself,  only  I  hate  to 
butt  into  another  fellow's  scrap.  But,  if  I'd  known 
you  were  going  to  set  there  and  let  him  walk  off 
with  that  sneer  on  his  face " 

"I  can't  fight  a  man  that  won't  hit  back,"  Weary 
protested.  "You  couldn't  either,  Cadwalloper. 
You'd  have  done  just  what  I  did;  you'd  have  let 
him  go." 

"He  will  hit  back,  all  right  enough,"  Pink  re- 
140 


Flying    U     Ranch 

torted  passionately.  "He'll  do  it  when  you  ain't 
looking,  though.  He " 

"I  know  it,"  Weary  sighed.  "I'm  kinda  sorry, 
now,  I  slapped  him.  He'll  hit  back — but  he  won't 
hit  me;  he'll  aim  at  the  outfit.  If  the  Old  Man 
was  here,  or  Chip,  I'd  feel  a  whole  lot  easier  in  my 
mind." 

"They  couldn't  do  anything  you  can't  do,"  Pink 
assured  him  loyally,  forgetting  his  petulance  when 
he  saw  the  careworn  look  in  Weary's  face.  "All 
they  can  do  is  gobble  all  the  range  around  here — 
and  I  guess  there's  a  few  of  us  that  will  have  a 
word  or  two  to  say  about  that." 

"What  makes  me  sore,"  Weary  confided,  "is 
knowing  that  Dunk  isn't  thinking  altogether  of  the 
dollar  end  of  it.  He's  tickled  to  death  to  get  a 
whack  at  the  outfit.  And  I  hate  to  see  him  get 
away  with  it;  but  I  guess  we'll  have  to  stand  for 
it." 

That  sentiment  did  not  please  Pink;  nor,  when 
Weary  repeated  it  later  that  evening  in  the  bunk- 
Hi 


Flying    U    Ranch 

house,  did  it  please  the  Happy  Family.  The  less 
pleasing  it  was  because  it  was  perfectly  true  and 
every  man  of  them  knew  it.  Beyond  keeping  the 
sheep  off  Flying  U  land,  there  was  nothing  they 
could  do  without  stepping  over  the  line  into  lawless 
ness — and,  while  they  were  not  in  any  sense  a  meek 
Happy  Family,  they  were  far  more  law-abiding 
than  their  conversation  that  night  made  them  ap 
pear. 


142 


CHAPTER   IX 

More  Sheep 

The  next  week  was  a  time  of  harassment  for 
the  Flying  U;  a  week  filled  to  overflowing  with 
petty  irritations,  traceable,  directly  or  indirectly,  to 
their  new  neighbors,  the  Dot  sheepmen.  The  band 
in  charge  of  the  bug-chaser  and  that  other  unlov 
able  man  from  Wyoming  fed  just  as  close  to  the 
Flying  U  boundary  as  their  guardians  dared  let 
them  feed;  a  great  deal  closer  than  was  good  for 
the  tempers  of  the  Happy  Family,  who  rode  fret 
fully  here  and  there  upon  their  own  business  and 
at  the  same  time  tried  to  keep  an  eye  upon  their 
unsavory  neighbors — a  proceeding  as  nerve-racking 
as  it  was  futile. 

The  Native  Son,  riding  home  in  jingling  haste 
from  Dry  Lake,  whither  he  had  hurried  one  after 
noon  in  the  hope  of  cheering  news  from  Chicago, 

143 


Flying    U     Ranch 

reported  another  trainload  of  Dots  on  the  wide 
level  beyond  Antelope  coulee.  There  were,  he  said, 
four  men  in  charge  of  the  band,  and  he  believed 
they  carried  guns,  though  he  was  not  positive  of 
that.  They  were  moving  slowly,  and  he  thought 
they  would  not  attempt  to  cross  Flying  U  coulee 
before  the  next  day;  though,  from  the  course  they 
were  taking,  he  was  sure  they  meant  to  cross. 

Coupled  with  that  bit  of  ill-tidings,  the  brief  note 
from  Chip,  saying  very  little  about  the  Old  Man, 
but  implying  a  good  deal  by  its  very  omissions, 
would  have  been  enough  to  send  the  Happy  Family 
to  sleepless  beds  that  night  if  they  had  been  the 
kind  to  endure  with  silent  fortitude  their  troubles. 

"If  you  fellers  would  back  me  up,"  brooded  Big 
Medicine  down  by  the  corral  after  supper,  "I'd  see 
to  it  them  sheep  never  gits  across  the  coulee,  by 
cripes!  I'd  send  'em  so  far  the  other  way  they'd 
git  plumb  turned  around  and  forgit  they  ever 
wanted  to  go  south." 

"It's  all  Dunk's  devilishness,"  Jack  Bates  de- 
144 


Flying    U    Ranch 

clared.  "He  could  take  them  in  the  other  way, 
even  if  the  feed  ain't  so  good  along  the  trail.  It's 
most  all  prairie-dog  towns — but  that's  good  enough 
for  sheep."  Jack,  in  his  intense  partisanship, 
spoke  as  if  sheep  were  not  entitled  to  decent  grass 
at  any  time  or  under  any  circumstances. 

"Them  herders  packin'  guns  looks  to  me  like 
they're  goin'  to  make  trouble  if  they  kin,"  gloomed 
Happy  Jack.  "I  betche  they'll  kill  somebody  before 
they're  through.  When  sheepmen  gits  mean " 

Pink  picked  up  his  rope  and  started  for  the  large 
corral,  where  a  few  saddle  horses  had  been  driven 
in  just  before  supper  and  had  not  yet  been  turned 
out. 

"You  fellows  can  stand  around  and  chew  the  rag, 
if  you  want  to,"  he  said  caustically,  "and  wait  for 
Weary  to  make  a  war-talk.  But  I'm  going  to  keep 
cases  on  them  Dots,  if  I  have  to  stand  an  all-night 
guard  on  'em.  I  don't  blame  Weary;  he's  looking 
out  for  the  law-and-order  business — and  that's  all 
right.  But  I'm  not  in  charge  of  the  outfit.  I'm 

145 


Flying    U    Ranch 

going  to  do  as  I  darn  please,  and,  if  they  don't  like 
my  style,  they  can  give  me  my  time." 

"Good  for  you,  Little  One!"  Big  Medicine  hur 
ried  to  overtake  him  so  that  he  might  slap  him  on 
the  shoulder  with  his  favorite,  sledge-hammer 
method  of  signifying  his  approval  of  a  man's  senti 
ments.  "Honest  to  grandma,  I  was  just  b'ginnin' 
to  think  this  bunch  was  girting  all  streaked  up  with 
yeller.  'Course,  we  ain't  goin'  to  wait  for  no  offi 
cial  orders,  by  cripes!  I'd  ruther  lock  Weary  up 
in  the  blacksmith  shop  than  let  him  tell  us  to  go 
ahead.  Go  awn  and  tell  him  a  good,  stiff  lie,  Andy 
— just  to  keep  him  interested  while  us  fellers  make 
a  gitaway.  He  ain't  in  on  this ;  we  don't  want  him 
in  on  it." 

"What  yuh  goin'  to  do?"  Happy  Jack  inquired 
suspiciously.  "Yuh  can't  go  and  monkey  with 
them  sheep,  er  them  herders.  They  ain't  on  our 
land.  And,  if  you  don't  git  killed,  old  Dunk'll  fix 
yuh  like  he  fixed  the  Gordon  boys — I  know  him — 
to  a  fare-you-well.  It'd  tickle  him  to  death  to  git 

146 


Flying    U    Ranch 

something  on  us  fellers.     I  betche  that's  what  he's 
aiming  t'do.    Git  us  to  fightin'  his  outfit  so's't " 

"Oh,  go  off  and  lie  down!"  Andy  implored  him 
contemptuously.  "We're  going  to  hang  those  herd 
ers,  and  drive  the  sheep  all  over  a  cut-back  some 
where,  like  Jesus  done  to  the  hogs,  and  then  we're 
going  over  and  murder  old  Dunk,  if  he's  at  home, 
and  burn  the  house  to  hide  the  guilty  deed.  And, 
if  the  sheriff  comes  snooping  around,  asking  dis 
agreeable  questions,  we'll  all  swear  you  done  it.  So 
now  you  know  our  plans;  shut  your  face  and  go 
on  to  bed.  And  be  sure,"  he  added  witheringly, 
"you  pull  the  soogans  over  your  head,  so  you  won't 
hear  the  dying  shriek  of  our  victims.  We're  liable 
to  get  kinda  excited  and  torture  'em  a  while  before 
we  kill  'em." 

"Aw,  gwan!"  gulped  Happy  Jack  mechanically. 
"You  make  me  sick!  If  yuh  think  I'm  goin'  to 
swaller  all  that,  you're  away  off!  You  wouldn't 
dast  do  nothing  of  the  kind;  and,  if  yuh  did,  you'd 
sure  have  a  sweet  time  lay  in'  it  onto  me!" 

147 


Flying    U    Ranch 

"Oh,  I  don't  know,"  drawled  the  Native  Son, 
with  a  slow,  velvet-eyed  glance,  "any  jury  in  the 
country  would  hang  you  on  your  looks,  Happy. 
I  knew  a  man  down  in  the  lower  part  of  California, 
who  was  arrested,  tried  and  hanged  for  murder. 
And  all  the  evidence  there  was  against  him  was 
the  fact  that  he  was  seen  within  five  miles  of  the 
place  on  the  same  day  the  murder  was  committed; 
and  his  face.  They  had  an  expert  physiognomist 
there,  and  he  swore  that  the  fellow  had  the  face 
of  a  murderer;  the  poor  devil  looked  like  a  crimi 
nal — and,  though  he  had  one  of  the  best  lawyers 
on  the  Coast,  it  was  adios  for  him." 

"I  s'pose  you  mean  /  got  the  face  of  a  criminal!" 
sputtered  Happy  Jack.  "It  ain't  always  the  purty 
fellers  that  wins  out — like  you  'n'  Pink.  I  never 
seen  the  purty  man  yit  that  was  worth  the  powder 
it'd  take  to  blow  him  up !  Aw,  you  fellers  make  me 
sick !"  He  went  off,  muttering  his  opinion  of  them 
all,  and  particularly  of  the  Native  Son,  who  smiled 

148 


Flying    U    Ranch 

while  he  listened.  "You  go  awn  and  start  some 
thing — and  you'll  wisht  you  hadn't,"  they  heard 
him  croak  from  the  big  gate,  and  chuckled  over  his 
wrath. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  Happy  Family,  as  a 
whole,  or  as  individuals,  had  no  intention  of  com 
mitting  any  great  violence  that  evening.  Pink 
wanted  to  see  just  where  this  new  band  of  sheep 
was  spending  the  night,  and  to  find  out,  if  possible, 
what  were  the  herders'  intentions.  Since  the  boys 
were  all  restless  under  their  worry,  and,  since  there 
is  a  contagious  element  in  seeking  a  trouble-zone, 
none  save  Happy  Jack,  who  was  "sore"  at  them, 
and  Weary  stayed  behind  in  the  coulee  with  old 
Patsy  while  the  others  rode  away  up  the  grade 
and  out  toward  Antelope  coulee  beyond. 

They  meant  only  to  reconnoiter,  and  to  warn  the 
herders  against  attempting  to  cross  Flying  U  cou 
lee;  though  they  were  not  exactly  sure  that  they 
would  be  perfectly  polite,  or  that  they  would  con- 

149 


Flying    U     Ranch 

fine  themselves  rigidly  to  the  language  they  were 
wont  to  employ  at  dances.  Andy  Green,  in  particu 
lar,  seemed  rather  to  look  forward  with  pleasure 
to  the  meeting.  Andy,  by  the  way,  had  remained 
heartbrokenly  passive  during  that  whole  week,  be 
cause  Weary  had  extracted  from  him  a  promise 
which  Andy,  mendacious  though  he  had  the  name 
of  being,  felt  constrained  to  keep  intact.  Though 
of  a  truth  it  irked  him  much  to  think  of  two  sheep- 
herders  walking  abroad  unpunished  for  their  out 
rage  upon  his  person. 

Weary,  as  he  had  made  plain  to  them  all,  wanted 
to  avoid  trouble  if  it  were  possible  to  do  so.  And, 
though  they  grinned  together  in  secret  over  his 
own  affair  with  Dunk — which  was  not,  in  their 
opinion,  exactly  pacific — they  meant  to  respect  his 
wishes  as  far  as  human  nature  was  able  to  do  so. 
So  that  the  Happy  Family,  galloping  toward  the 
red  sunset  and  the  great,  gray  blot  on  the  prairie, 
just  where  the  glory  of  the  west  tinged  the  grass 


Flying    U    Ranch 

blades  with  red,  were  not  one-half  as  blood-thirsty 
as  they  had  proclaimed  themselves  to  be. 

While  they  were  yet  afar  off  they  could  see  two 
men  walking  slowly  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of 
the  huddled  band.  A  hundred  yards  away  was  a 
small  tent,  with  a  couple  of  horses  picketed  near  by 
and  feeding  placidly.  The  men  turned,  gazed 
long  at  their  approach,  and  walked  to  the  tent, 
which  they  entered  somewhat  hastily. 

"Look  at  'em  dodge  outa  sight,  will  you!''  cried 
Cal  Emmett,  and  lifted  up  his  voice  in  the  yell 
which  sometimes  announced  the  Happy  Family's 
arrival  in  Dry  Lake  after  a  long,  thirsty  absence 
on  roundup.  Other  voices  joined  in  after  that  first, 
shrill  "Ow-ow-ow-eee!"  of  Cal's;  so  that  presently 
the  whole  lot  of  them  were  emitting  nerve-crimp- 
ling  yells  and  spurring  their  horses  into  a  thunder 
of  hoofbeats,  as  they  bore  down  upon  the  tent. 
Between  howls  they  laughed,  picturing  to  them 
selves  four  terrified  sheepherders  cowering  within 
those  frail,  canvas  walls. 


Flying    U    Ranch 

"I'm  a  rambler,  and  a  gambler,  and  far  from  my 

ho-o-me, 
And  if  yuh  don't  like  me,  jest  leave  me  alo-o-ne!" 

chanted  Big  Medicine  most  horribly,  and  finished 
with  a  yell  that  almost  scared  himself  and  set  his 
horse  to  plunging  wildly. 

"Come  out  of  there,  you  lop-eared  mutton-chew- 
ers,  and  let  us  pick  the  wool  outa  your  teeth!" 
shouted  Andy  Green,  telling  himself  hastily  that 
this  was  not  breaking  his  promise  to  Weary,  and 
yielding  to  the  temptation  of  coming  as  close  to 
the  guilty  persons  as  he  might;  for,  while  these 
were  not  the  men  who  had  tied  him  and  left  him 
alone  on  the  prairie,  they  belonged  to  the  same  out 
fit,  and  there  was  some  comfort  in  giving  them  a 
few  disagreeable  minutes. 

Pink,  in  the  lead,  was  turning  to  ride  around  the 
tent,  still  yelling,  when  someone  within  the  tent 
fired  a  rifle — and  did  not  aim  as  high  as  he  should. 
The  bullet  zipped  close  over  the  head  of  Big  Medi- 

152 


Flying    U     Ranch 

cine,  who  happened  to  be  opposite  the  crack  be 
tween  the  tent-flaps.  The  hand  of  Big  Medicine 
jerked  back  to  his  hip;  but,  quick  as  he  was,  the 
Native  Son  plunged  between  him  and  the  tent  be 
fore  he  could  take  aim. 

"Steady,  amigo,"  smiled  Miguel.  "You  aren't  a 
crazy  sheepherder." 

"No,  but  I'm  goin'  to  kill  off  one.  Git  outa  my 
way!"  Big  Medicine  was  transformed  into  a  cold- 
eyed,  iron- jawed  fighting  machine.  He  dug  the 
spurs  in,  meaning  to  ride  ahead  of  Miguel.  But 
Miguel's  spurs  also  pressed  home,  so  that  the  two 
horses  plunged  as  one.  Big  Medicine,  bellowing 
one  solitary  oath,  drew  his  right  leg  from  the  stir 
rup  to  dismount.  Miguel  reached  out,  caught  him 
by  the  arm,  and  held  him  to  the  saddle.  And, 
though  Big  Medicine  was  a  strong  man,  the  grip 
held  firm  and  unyielding. 

"You  must  think  of  the  outfit,  you  know,"  said 
Miguel,  smiling  still.  "There  must  be  no  shooting. 

Once  that  begins "  He  shrugged  his  shoulders 

153 


Flying    U    Ranch 

with  that  slight,  eloquent  movement,  which  the 
Happy  Family  had  come  to  know  so  well.  He  was 
speaking  to  them  all,  as  they  crowded  up  to  the 
scuffle.  "The  man  who  feels  the  trigger-itch  had 
better  throw  his  gun  away,"  he  advised  coolly.  "I 
know,  boys.  I've  seen  these  things  start  before. 
All  hell  can't  stop  you,  once  you  begin  to  shoot. 
Put  it  up,  Bud,  or  give  it  to  me." 

"The  man  don't  live  that  can  shoot  at  me,  by 
cripes,  and  git  away  with  it.  Not  if  he  misses 
killin'  me!"  Big  Medicine  was  shaking  with  rage; 
but  the  Native  Son  saw  that  he  hesitated,  never 
theless,  and  laughed  outright. 

"Call  him  out  and  give  him  a  thumping.  That's 
good  enough  for  a  sheepherder,"  he  suggested  as  a 
substitute. 

Perhaps  because  the  Native  Son  so  seldom  of 
fered  advice,  and,  because  of  his  cool  courage  in 
interfering  with  Big  Medicine  at  such  a  time,  Bud's 
jaw  relaxed  and  his  pale  eyes  became  more  human 
in  their  expression.  He  even  permitted  Miguel  to 

154 


Flying    U     Ranch 

remove  the  big,  wicked  Colt  from  his  hand,  and 
slide  it  into  his  own  pocket;  whereat  the  Happy 
Family  gasped  with  astonishment.  Not  even  Pink 
would  have  dreamed  of  attempting  such  a  thing. 

"Well,  he's  got  to  come  out  and  take  a  Hckin', 
anyway,"  shouted  Big  Medicine  venge fully,  and 
rode  close  enough  to  slap  the  canvas  smartly  with 
his  quirt.  By  all  the  gods  he  knew  by  name  he 
called  upon  the  offender  to  come  forth,  while  the 
others  drew  up  in  a  rude  half-circle  to  await  de 
velopments.  Heavy  silence  was  the  reply  he  got. 
It  was  as  though  the  men  within  were  sitting  tense 
and  watchful,  like  cougars  crouched  for  a  spring, 
with  claws  unsheathed  and  muscles  quivering. 

"You  better  come  out,"  called  Andy  sharply, 
after  they  had  waited  a  decent  interval.  "We  didn't 
come  here  hunting  trouble ;  we  want  to  know  where 
you're  headed  for  with  these  sheep.  The  fellow 
that  cut  loose  with  the  gun " 

"Aw,  don't  talk  so  purty!  I'm  gitting  almighty 
tired,  just  setting  here  lettin'  m'  legs  hang  down. 

155 


Flying    U    Ranch 

Git  your  ropes,  boys !"  With  one  sweeping  gesture 
of  his  arm  Big  Medicine  made  plain  his  meaning  as 
he  rode  a  few  paces  away,  his  fingers  fumbling 
with  the  string  that  held  his  rope.  "I'm  goin'  to 
have  a  look  at  'em,  anyway,"  he  grinned.  "I  sure 
do  hate  to  see  men  act  so  bashful." 

With  his  rope  free  and  ready  for  action,  Big 
Medicine  shook  the  loop  out,  glanced  around,  and 
saw  that  Andy,  Pink  and  Cal  Emmett  were  also 
ready,  and,  with  a  dexterous  flip,  settled  the  noose 
neatly  over  the  iron  pin  that  thrust  up  through 
the  end  of  the  ridge-pole  in  front.  Andy's  loop 
sank  neatly  over  it  a  second  later,  and  the  two 
wheeled  and  dashed  away  together,  with  Pink  and 
Irish  duplicating  their  performance  at  the  other 
end  of  the  tent.  The  dingy,  smoke-stained  canvas 
swayed,  toppled,  as  the  pegs  gave  way,  and  finally 
lay  flat  upon  the  prairie  fifty  feet  from  where  it 
had  stood,  leaving  the  inmates  exposed  to  the  cruel 
stare  of  eight  unfriendly  cowpunchers.  Four  cow- 

156 


Flying    U    Ranch 

ering  figures  they  were,  with  guns  in  their  hands 
that  shook. 

"Drop  them  guns!"  thundered  Big  Medicine, 
flipping  his  rope  loose  and  recoiling  it  mechanically 
as  he  plunged  up  to  the  group. 

One  man  obeyed.  One  gave  a  squawk  of  terror 
and  permitted  his  gun  to  go  off  at  random  before 
he  fled  toward  the  coulee.  The  other  two  crouched 
behind  their  bed-rolls,  set  their  jaws  doggedly  and 
glared  defiance. 

Pink,  Andy,  Irish,  Big  Medicine  and  the  Native 
Son  slid  off  their  horses  and  made  a  rush  at  them. 
A  rifle  barked  viciously,  and  Slim,  sitting  prudently 
on  his  horse  well  in  the  rear,  gave  a  yell  and  started 
for  home  at  a  rapid  pace. 

Considering  the  provocation  the  Happy  Family 
behaved  with  quite  praiseworthy  self-control  and 
leniency.  They  did  not  lynch  those  two  herders. 
They  did  not  kill  them,  either  by  bullets,  knives, 
or  beating  to  death.  They  took  away  the  guns, 
however,  and  they  told  them  with  extreme  blunt- 

157 


Flying    U     Ranch 

ness  what  sort  of  men  they  believed  them  to  be. 
They  defined  accurately  their  position  in  society  at 
large,  in  that  neighborhood,  and  stated  what  would 
be  their  future  fate  if  they  persisted  in  acting  with 
so  little  caution  and  common  sense. 

At  Andy  Green's  earnest  behest  they  also  wound 
them  round  and  round  with  ropes,  before  they  de 
parted,  and  gave  them  some  very  good  advice  upon 
the  matter  of  range  rules  and  the  herding  of  sheep, 
particularly  of  Dot  sheep. 

"You're  playing  big  luck,  if  you  only  had  sense 
enough  to  know  it,"  Andy  pointed  out  to  the  re 
cumbent  three  before  they  rode  away.  "We  didn't 
come  over  here  on  the  warpath,  and,  if  you  hadn't 
got  in  such  a  darned  hurry  to  start  something,  you'd 
be  a  whole  lot  more  comfortable  right  now.  We 
rode  over  to  tell  yuh  not  to  start  them  sheep  across 
Flying  U  coulee;  because,  if  you  do,  you're  going 
to  have  both  hands  and  your  hats  plumb  full  uh 
trouble.  It  has  taken  some  little  time  and  fussing 

158 


Flying    U     Ranch 

to  get  yuh  gentled  down  so  we  can  talk  to  you,  and 
I  sure  do  hope  yuh  remember  what  I'm  saying." 

"Oh,  we'll  remember  it,  all  right!"  menaced  one 
of  the  men,  lifting  his  head  turtlewise  that  he  might 
glare  at  the  group.  "And  our  bosses'll  remember 
it;  you  needn't  worry  about  that  none.  You  wait 
till " 

The  next  man  to  him  turned  his  head  and  mut 
tered  a  sentence,  and  the  speaker  dropped  his  head 
back  upon  the  ground,  silenced. 

"It  was  your  own  outfit  started  this  style  of  rope 
trimming,  so  you  can't  kick  about  that  part  of  the 
deal,"  Pink  informed  them  melodiously.  "It's  lia 
ble  to  get  to  be  all  the  rage  with  us.  So,  if  you 
don't  like  it,  don't  come  around  where  we  are. 
And  say!"  His  dimples  stood  deep  in  his  cheeks. 
"You  send  those  ropes  home  to-morrow,  will  yuh? 
We're  liable  to  need  'em." 

"And  yuh  better  not  wait  till  we  come  after  'em, 
by  cripes!"  Big  Medicine  bawled.  "What  say  we 
haze  them  sheep  a  few  miles  north,  boys?" 

159 


Flying    U     Ranch 

"Oh,  I  guess  they'll  be  all  right  where  they  are," 
Andy  protested,  his  thirst  for  revenge  assuaged  at 
sight  of  those  three  trussed  as  he  had  been  trussed, 
and  apparently  not  liking  it  any  better  than  he  had 
liked  it.  "They'll  be  good  and  careful  not  to  come 
around  the  Flying  U — or  I  miss  my  guess  a  mile." 

The  others  cast  comprehensive  glances  at  their 
immediate  surroundings,  and  decided  that  they  had 
at  least  made  their  meaning  plain;  there  was  no 
occasion  for  emphasizing  their  disapproval  any  fur 
ther.  They  confiscated  the  rifles,  and  they  told  the 
fellows  why  they  did  so.  They  very  kindly  pulled 
a  tarpaulin  over  the  three  to  protect  them  in  a 
measure  from  the  chill  night  that  was  close  upon 
them,  and  they  wished  them  good  night  and  pleas 
ant  dreams,  and  rode  away  home. 

On  the  way  they  met  Weary  and  Happy  Jack, 
galloping  anxiously  to  the  battle  scene.  Slim,  it 
appeared  from  Weary's  rapid  explanation,  had  ar 
rived  at  the  ranch  with  his  horse  in  a  lather  and 
with  a  four-inch  furrow  in  the  fleshiest  part  of  his 

160 


Flying    U     Ranch 

leg,  where  a  bullet  had  flicked  him  in  passing.  The 
tale  he  told  had  led  Weary  to  believe  that  Slim  was 
the  sole  survivor  of  that  reckless  company. 

"Mamma!  I'm  so  glad  to  see  you  boys  able  to 
fork  your  horses  and  swear  natural,  that  I  don't 
believe  I  can  speak  my  little  piece  about  staying  on 
your  own  side  the  fence  and  letting  trouble  do  some 
of  the  hunting,"  he  exclaimed  thankfully.  "I  wish 
you'd  stayed  at  home  and  left  these  blamed  Dots 
alone.  But,  seeing  yuh  didn't,  I'm  tickled  to  death 
to  hear  you  didn't  kill  anybody  off.  I  don't  want 
the  folks  to  come  home  and  'find  the  whole  bunch 
in  the  pen.  It  might  look  as  if " 

"You  don't  want  the  folks  to  come  home  and 
find  the  whole  ranch  sheeped  off,  either,  and  the 
herders  camping  up  in  the  white  house,  do  yuh?" 
Pink  inquired  pointedly.  "I  kinda  think,"  he  added 
dryly,  "those  same  herders  will  feel  like  going 
away  around  Flying  U  fences  with  their  sheep.  I 
don't  believe  they'll  do  any  cutting  across." 

"I  betche  old  Dtmk'll  make  it  interestin'  fer  this 
161 


Flying    U     Ranch 

outfit,  just  the  same,"  Happy  Jack  predicted.  "Ty- 
in'  up  three  men  uh  hisn,  like  that,  and  ropin'  their 
tent  and  draggin'  it  off,  ain't  things  he'll  pass  up. 
He'll  have  a  possy  out  here — you  see  if  he  don't!" 

"In  that  case,  I'll  be  sorry  for  you,  Happy," 
purred  Miguel  close  beside  him.  "You're  the  only 
one  in  the  outfit  that  looks  capable  of  such  a  vile 
deed." 

"Oh,  Dunk  won't  do  anything,"  Weary  said 
cheerfully.  "You'll  have  to  take  those  guns  back, 
though.  They  might  take  a  notion  to  call  that 
stealing !" 

"You  forget,"  the  Native  Son  reminded  calmly, 
"that  we  left  them  three  good  ropes  in  exchange." 

Whereupon  the  Happy  Family  laughed  and  went 
to  offer  their  unsought  sympathy  to  Slim. 


162 


CHAPTER   X 

The  Happy  Family  Herd  Sheep 

The  boys  of  the  .Flying  U  had  many  faults  in 
common,  aside  from  certain  individual  frailties; 
one  of  their  chief  weaknesses  was  over-confidence 
in  their  own  ability  to  cope  with  any  situation  which 
might  arise,  unexpectedly  or  otherwise,  and  a  be 
lief  that  others  felt  that  same  confidence  in  them, 
and  that  enemies  were  wont  to  sit  a  long  time 
counting  the  cost  before  venturing  to  offer  too  great 
an  affront.  Also  they  believed — and  made  it  mani 
fest  in  their  conversation — that  they  could  even 
bring  the  Old  Man  back  to  health  if  they  only  had 
him  on  the  ranch  where  they  could  get  at  him. 
They  maligned  the  hospitals  and  Chicago  doctors 
most  unjustly,  and  were  agreed  that  all  he  needed 
was  to  be  back  on  the  ranch  where  somebody  could 
look  after  him  right.  They  asserted  that,  if  they 

163 


Flying    U     Ranch 

ever  got  tired  of  living  and  wanted  to  cash  in  with 
out  using  a  gun  or  anything,  they'd  go  to  a  hospital 
and  tell  the  doctors  to  turn  loose  and  try  to  cure 
them  of  something. 

This  by  way  of  illustration;  also  as  an  explana 
tion  of  their  sleeping  soundly  that  night,  instead 
of  watching  for  some  hostile  demonstration  on  the 
part  of  the  Dot  outfit.  To  a  man — one  never 
counted  Happy  Jack's  prophecies  of  disaster  as  be 
ing  anything  more  than  a  personal  deformity  of 
thought — they  were  positive  in  their  belief  that  the 
Dot  sheepherders  would  be  very,  very  careful  not 
to  provoke  the  Happy  Family  to  further  manifesta 
tions  of  disapproval.  They  knew  what  they'd  get, 
if  they  tried  any  more  funny  business,  and  they'd 
be  mighty  careful  where  they  drove  their  sheep  af 
ter  this. 

So,  with  the  comfortable  glow  of  victory  in  their 
souls,  they  laid  them  down,  and,  when  the  animated 
discussion  of  that  night's  adventure  flagged,  as  their 
tongues  grew  sleep-clogged  and  their  eyelids 

164 


Flying     U    Ranch 

drooped,  they  slept  in  peace;  save  when  Slim, 
awakened  by  the  soreness  of  his  leg,  grunted  a 
malediction  or  two  before  he  began  snoring  again. 

They  rose  and  ate  their  breakfast  in  a  fair  hu 
mor  with  the  world.  One  grows  accustomed  to  the 
thought  of  sickness,  even  when  it  strikes  close  to 
the  affections,  and,  with  the  resilience  of  youth 
and  hope,  life  adjusts  itself  to  make  room  for  the 
specter  of  fear,  so  that  it  does  not  crowd  unduly, 
but  stands  half-forgotten  in  the  background  of 
one's  thoughts.  For  that  reason  they  no  longer 
spoke  soberly  because  of  the  Old  Man  lying  hurt 
unto  death  in  Chicago.  And,  when  they  mentioned 
the  Dot  sheep  and  men,  they  spoke  as  men  speak 
of  the  vanquished. 

With  the  taste  of  hot  biscuits  and  maple  syrup 
still  lingering  pleasantly  against  their  palates,  they 
went  out  and  were  confronted  with  sheep,  blatting 
sheep,  stinking  sheep,  devastating  sheep,  Dot  sheep. 
On  the  south  side  of  the  coulee,  up  on  the  bluff, 
grazed  the  band.  They  fed  upon  the  brow  of  the 

165 


Flying    U     Ranch 

hill  opposite  the  ranch  buildings;  they  squeezed 
under  the  fence  and  spilled  a  ragged  fringe  of  run 
ning,  gray  animals  down  the  slope.  Half  a  mile 
away  though  the  nearest  of  them  were,  the  mur 
mur  of  them,  the  smell  of  them,  the  whole  intoler 
able  presence  of  them,  filled  the  Happy  Family  with 
an  amazed  loathing  too  deep  for  words. 

Technically,  that  high,  level  stretch  of  land 
bounding  Flying  U  coulee  on  the  south  was  open 
range.  It  belonged  to  the  government.  The  soil 
was  not  fertile  enough  even  for  the  most  optimistic 
of  "dry  land"  farmers  to  locate  upon  it;  and  this 
was  before  the  dry-land  farming  craze  had  swept 
the  country,  gathering  in  all  public  land  as  claims. 
J.  G.  Whitmore  had  contented  himself  with  acquir 
ing  title  to  the  whole  of  the  Flying  U  coulee,  secure 
in  his  belief  that  the  old  order  of  things  would 
not  change,  in  his  life-time,  at  least,  and  that  the 
unwritten  law  of  the  range  land,  which  leaves  the 
vicinity  of  a  ranch  to  the  use  of  the  ranch  owner, 

166 


Flying    U     Ranch 

would  never  be  repealed  by  new  customs  imposed 
by  a  new  class  of  people. 

Legally,  there  was  no  trespassing  of  the  Dots, 
beyond  the  two  or  three  hundred  which  had  made 
their  way  through  the  fence.  Morally,  however, 
and  by  right  of  custom,  their  offense  would  not  be 
much  greater  if  they  came  on  down  the  hill  and 
invaded  the  Old  Man's  pet  meadows,  just  beyond 
the  "little  pasture." 

Ladies  may  read  this  story,  so  I  am  not  going  to 
pretend  to  repeat  the  things  they  said,  once  they 
were  released  from  dumb  amazement.  I  should  be 
compelled  to  improvise  and  substitute — which 
would  remove  much  of  the  flavor.  Let  bare  facts 
suffice,  at  present. 

They  saddled  in  haste,  and  in  haste  they  rode  to 
the  scene.  This,  they  were  convinced,  was  the  band 
herded  by  the  bug-killer  and  the  man  from  Wyo 
ming;  and  the  nerve  of  those  two  almost  excited 
the  admiration  of  the  Happy  Family.  It  did  not, 
however,  deter  them  from  their  purpose. 

167 


Flying    U     Ranch 

Weary,  to  look  at  him,  was  no  longer  in  the 
mood  to  preach  patience  and  a  turning  of  the  other 
cheek.  He  also  made  that  change  of  heart  manifest 
in  his  speech  when  Pink,  his  eyes  almost  black, 
rode  up  close  and  gritted  at  him: 

"Well,  what's  the  orders  now?  Want  me  to  go 
back  and  get  the  wire  nippers  so  we  can  let  them 
poor  little  sheep  down  into  the  meadow?  Maybe 
we  better  ask  the  herders  down  to  have  some  of 
Patsy's  grub,  too;  I  don't  believe  they  had  time 
to  cook  much  breakfast.  And  it  wouldn't  be  a  bad 
idea  to  haze  our  own  stuff  clear  off  the  range. 
I'm  afraid  Dunk's  sheep  are  going  to  fare  kinda 
slim,  if  we  go  on  letting  our  cattle  eat  all  the  good 
grass!"  Pink  did  not  often  indulge  in  such  lengthy 
sarcasm,  especially  toward  his  beloved  Weary;  but 
his  exasperation  toward  Weary's  mild  tactics  had 
been  growing  apace. 

Weary's  reply,  I  fear,  will  have  to  be  omitted. 
It  was  terribly  unrefined. 

"I  want  you  boys  to  spread  out,  around  the 
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Flying    U     Ranch 

whole  bunch,"  was  his  first  printable  utterance, 
"and  haze  these  sheep  just  as  far  south  as  they  can 
get  without  taking  to  the  river.  Don't  get  all  het 
up  chasing  'em  yourself — make  the  men  (Weary 
did  not  call  them  men;  he  called  them  something 
very  naughty)  that's  paid  for  it  do  the  driving." 

"And,  if  they  don't  go,"  drawled  the  smooth 
voice  of  the  Native  Son,  "what  shall  we  do,  amigof 
Slap  them  on  the  wrist?" 

Weary  twisted  in  the  saddle  and  sent  him  a  bale 
ful  glance,  which  was  not  at  all  like  Weary  the 
sunny-hearted. 

"If  you  can't  figure  that  out  for  yourself,"  he 
snapped,  "you  had  better  go  back  and  wipe  the 
dishes  for  Patsy;  and,  when  that's  done,  you  can 
pull  the  weeds  out  of  his  radishes.  Maybe  he'll  give 
you  a  nickel  to  buy  candy  with,  if  you  do  it  good." 
Before  he  faced  to  the  front  again  his  harsh  glance 
swept  the  faces  of  his  companions. 

They  were  grinning,  every  man  of  them,  and  he 
knew  why.  To  see  him  lose  his  temper  was  some- 

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Flying    U    Ranch 

thing  of  an  event  with  the  Happy  Family,  who 
used  sometimes  to  fix  the  date  of  an  incident  by 
saying,  "It  was  right  after  that  time  Weary  got 
mad,  a  year  ago  last  fall,"  or  something  of  the 
sort.  He  grinned  himself,  shamefacedly,  and  told 
them  that  they  were  a  bunch  of  no-account  cusses, 
anyway,  and  he'd  just  about  as  soon  herd  sheep 
himself  as  to  have  to  run  with  such  an  outfit; 
which  swept  his  anger  from  him  and  left  him  his 
usual  self,  with  but  the  addition  of  a  purpose  from 
which  nothing  could  stay  him.  He  was  going  to 
settle  the  sheep  question,  and  he  was  going  to  settle 
it  that  day. 

Only  one  injunction  did  he  lay  upon  the  Happy 
Family.  "You  fellows  don't  want  to  get  excited 
and  go  to  shooting,"  he  warned,  while  they  were 
still  out  of  hearing  of  the  herders.  "We  don't  want 
Dunk  to  get  anything  like  that  on  us;  savvy?" 

They  "savvied,"  and  they  told  him  so,  each  after 
his  own  individual  manner. 

"I  guess  we  ought  to  be  able  to  put  the  run  on 
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Flying    U     Ranch 

a  couple  of  sheepherders,  without  wasting  any  pow 
der,"  Pink  said  loftily,  remembering  his  meeting 
with  them  a  few  days  before. 

"One  thing  sure — we'll  make  a  good  job  of  it 
this  time,"  promised  Irish,  and  spurred  after 
Weary,  who  was  leading  the  way  around  the  band. 

The  herders  watched  them  openly  and  with  the 
manner  of  men  who  are  expecting  the  worst  to 
happen.  Unlike  the  four  whose  camp  had  been 
laid  low  the  night  before,  these  two  were  unarmed, 
as  they  had  been  from  the  first;  which,  in  Weary's 
opinion,  was  a  bit  of  guile  upon  the  part  of  Dunk. 
If  trouble  came — trouble  which  it  would  take  a 
jury  to  settle — the  fact  that  the  sheepmen  were 
unarmed  would  tell  heavily  in  their  favor;  for, 
while  the  petty  meanness  of  range-stealing  and  nag 
ging  trespass  may  be  harder  to  bear  than  the  flour 
ishing  of  a  gun  before  one's  face,  it  all  sounds 
harmless  enough  in  the  telling. 

Weary  headed  straight  for  the  nearest  herder, 
told  him  to  put  his  dogs  to  work  rounding  up  the 

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Flying    U     Ranch 

sheep,  which  were  scattered  over  an  area  half  a 
mile  across  while  they  fed,  and,  when  the  herder, 
who  was  the  bug-killer,  made  no  move  to  obey, 
Weary  deliberately  pulled  his  gun  and  pointed  at 
his  head. 

"You  move,"  he  directed  with  grim  intent,  "and 
don't  take  too  much  time  about  it,  either." 

The  bug-killer,  an  unkempt,  ungainly  figure, 
standing  with  his  back  to  the  morning  sun,  scowled 
up  at  Weary  stolidly. 

"Yuh  dassent  shoot,"  he  stated  sourly,  and  did 
not  move. 

For  answer,  Weary  pulled  back  the  hammer; 
also  he  smiled  as  malignantly  as  it  was  in  his  nature 
to  do,  and  hoped  in  his  heart  that  he  looked  suffi 
ciently  terrifying  to  convince  the  man.  So  they 
faced  each  other  in  a  silent  clash  of  wills. 

Big  Medicine  had  not  been  saying  much  on  the 
way  over,  which  was  unusual.  Now  he  rode  for 
ward  until  he  was  abreast  of  Weary,  and  he  grinned 

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Flying    U     Ranch 

down  at  the  bug-killer  in  a  way  to  distract  his  at 
tention  from  the  gun. 

"Nobody  don't  have  to  shoot,  by  cripes!"  he 
bawled.  "We  hain't  goin'  to  kill  yuh.  We'll  make 
yuh  wisht,  by  cripes,  we  had,  though,  b'fore  we  git 
through.  Git  to  work,  boys,  V  gether  up  some 
dry  grass  an'  sticks.  Over  there  in  them  rose 
bushes  you  oughta  find  enough  bresh.  We'll  give 
him  a  taste  uh  what  we  was  talkin'  about  comin' 
over,  by  cripes!  I  guess  he'll  be  willin'  to  drive 
sheep,  all  right,  when  we  git  through  with  him. 
Haw-haw-/mw-w-w/"  He  leaned  forward  in  the 
saddle  and  ogled  the  bug-killer  with  horrid  signifi 
cance. 

"Git  busy  with  that  bresh!"  he  yelled  authorita 
tively,  when  a  glance  showed  him  that  the  Happy 
Family  was  hesitating  and  eyeing  him  uncertainly. 
"Git  a  fire  goin'  quick's  yuh  kin — I'll  do  the  rest. 
Down  in  Coconino  county  we  used  to  have  a  way 
uh  fixin'  sheepherders " 

"Aw,  gwan!  We  don't  want  no  torture  busi- 
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Flying     U     Ranch 

ness!"  remonstrated  Happy  Jack  uneasily,  edging 
away. 

"Yuh  don't,  hey?"  Big  Medicine  turned  in  the 
saddle  wrathfully  and  glared.  When  he  had  suc 
ceeded  in  catching  Andy  Green's  eye  he  winked, 
and  that  young  man's  face  kindled  understandingly. 
"Well,  now,  you  hain't  runnin'  this  here  show. 
Honest  to  grandma,  I've  saw  the  time  when  a  little 
foot-warmin'  done  a  sheepherder  a  whole  lot  uh 
good;  and.  it  looks  to  me,  by  cripes,  as  if  this  here 
feller  needed  a  dose  to  gentle  him  down.  You  git 
the  fire  started.  That's  all  I  want  you  t'  do,  Happy. 
Some  uh  you  boys  help  me  rope  him — like  him 
and  that  other  jasper  over  there  done  to  Andy. 
C'me  on,  Andy — it  ain't  goin'  to  take  long!" 

"You  bet  your  sweet  life  I'll  come  on!"  exclaimed 
Andy,  dismounting  eagerly.  "Let  me  take  your 
rope,  Weary.  Too  bad  we  haven't  got  a  branding 
iron " 

"Aw,  we  don't  need  no  irons."  Big  Medicine 
was  also  on  the  ground  by  then,  and  untying  his 


Flying    U     Ranch 

rope.  "Lemme  git  his  shoes  off  once,  and  I'll  show 
yuh." 

The  bug-killer  lifted  his  stick,  snarling  like  a 
mongrel  dog  when  a  stranger  tries  to  drive  it  out 
of  the  house;  hurled  the  stick  hysterically,  as  Big 
Medicine,  rope  in  hand,  advanced  implacably,  and, 
with  a  squawk  of  horror,  turned  suddenly  and  ran. 
After  him,  bellowing  terribly,  lunged  Big  Medicine, 
straight  through  the  band  like  a  snowplow,  leaving 
behind  them  a  wide,  open  trail. 

"Say,  we  kinda  overplayed  that  bet,  by  gracious," 
Andy  commented  to  Weary,  while  he  watched  the 
chase.  "That  gazabo's  scared  silly;  let's  try  the 
other  one.  That  torture  talk  works  fine." 

In  his  enthusiasm  Andy  remounted  and  was 
about  to  lead  the  way  to  the  other  herder  when 
Big  Medicine  returned  puffing,  the  bug-killer 
squirming  in  his  grasp.  "Tell  him  what  yuh  want 
him  to  do,  Weary,"  he  panted,  with  some  difficulty 
holding  his  limp  victim  upright  by  a  greasy  coat- 

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Flying    U    Ranch 

collar.  "And  if  he  don't  fall  over  himself  doin'  it, 
why — by  cripes — we'll  take  off  his  shoes!" 

Whereupon  the  bug-killer  gave  another  howl  and 
professed  himself  eager  to  drive  the  sheep — well, 
what  he  said  was  that  he  would  drive  them  to  that 
place  which  ladies  dislike  to  hear  mentioned,  if 
the  Happy  Family  wanted  him  to. 

"That's  all  right,  then.  Start  'em  south,  and 
don't  quit  till  somebody  tells  you  to."  Weary  care 
fully  let  down  the  hammer  of  his  six-shooter  and 
shoved  it  thankfully  into  his  scabbard. 

"Now,  you  don't  want  to  pile  it  on  quite  so  thick, 
next  time,"  Irish  admonished  Big  Medicine,  when 
they  turned  away  from  watching  the  bug-killer  set 
his  dogs  to  work  by  gestures  and  a  shouted  word  or 
two.  "You  like  to  have  sent  this  one  plumb  nutty." 

"I  betche  Bud  gets  us  all  pinched  for  that,"  grum 
bled  Happy  Jack.  "Torturing  folks  is  purty  darned 
serious  business.  You  might  as  well  shoot  'em  up 
decent  and  be  done  with  it." 

"Haw-haw-haw-w-w !"  Big  Medicine  ogled  the 
176 


Flying    U     Ranch 

group  mirthfully.  "Nobody  can't  swear  I  done  a 
thing,  or  said  a  thing.  All  I  said  definite  was  that 
I'd  take  off  his  shoes.  Any  jury  in  the  country 'd 
know  that  would  be  hull  lot  worse  fer  us  than 
it  would  fer  him,  by  cripes.  Haw-haw-Tiaw-w-w/^ 

"Say,  that's  right;  yuh  didn't  say  nothin',  ner  do 
nothin'.  By  golly,  that  was  purty  slick  work,  all 
right!"  Slim  forgot  his  sore  leg  until  he  clapped 
his  hand  enthusiastically  down  upon  the  place  as 
comprehension  of  Bud's  finesse  dawned  upon  him. 
He  yelped,  and  the  Happy  Family  laughed  unfeel 
ingly. 

"You  want  to  be  careful  and  don't  try  to  see 
through  any  jokes,  Slim,  till  that  leg  uh  yours  gets 
well,"  Irish  bantered,  and  they  laughed  the  louder. 

All  this  was  mere  byplay;  a  momentary  swing 
ing  of  their  mood  to  pleasantry,  because  they  were 
a  temperamentally  cheerful  lot,  and  laughter  came 
to  them  easily,  as  it  always  does  to  youth  and  per 
fect  mental  and  physical  health.  Their  brief  hi 
larity  over  Slim's  misfortune  did  not  swerve  them 

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Flying    U     Ranch 

from  their  purpose,  nor  soften  the  mood  of  them 
toward  their  adversaries.  They  were  unsmiling 
and  unfriendly  when  they  reached  the  man  from 
Wyoming;  and,  if  they  ever  behaved  like  boys  let 
out  of  school,  they  did  not  show  it  then. 

The  Wyoming  man  was  wiser  than  his  fellow. 
He  had  been  given  several  minutes'  grace  in  which 
to  meditate  upon  the  unwisdom  of  defiance;  and 
he  had  seen  the  bug-killer  change  abruptly  from 
sullenness  to  terror,  and  afterward  to  abject  obedi 
ence.  He  did  not  know  what  they  had  said  to  him, 
or  what  they  had  done;  but  he  knew  the  bug- 
killer  was  a  hard  man  to  stampede.  And  he  was 
one  man,  and  they  were  many;  also  he  judged  that, 
being  human,  and  this  being  the  third  offense  of 
the  Dot  sheep  under  his  care,  it  would  be  extremely 
unsafe  to  trust  that  their  indignation  would  vent 
itself  in  mere  words. 

Therefore,  when  Weary  told  him  to  get  the 
stragglers  back  through  the  fence  and  up  on  the 
level,  he  stopped  only  long  enough  for  a  good  look 

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Flying    U     Ranch 

at  their  faces.  After  that  he  called  his  dogs  and 
crawled  through  the  fence. 

It  really  did  not  require  the  entire  Family  to 
force  those  sheep  south  that  morning.  But 
Weary's  jaw  was  set,  as  was  his  heart,  upon  a  thor 
ough  cleaning  of  that  particular  bit  of  range;  and, 
since  he  did  not  definitely  request  any  man  to  turn 
back,  and  every  fellow  there  was  minded  to  see 
the  thing  to  a  finish,  they  straggled  out  behind  the 
trailing  two  thousand — and  never  had  one  bunch 
of  sheep  so  efficient  a  convoy. 

After  the  first  few  miles  the  way  grew  rough. 
Sheep  lagged,  and  the  blatting  increased  to  an  up 
roar.  Old  ewes  and  yearlings  these  were  mostly, 
and  there  were  few  to  suffer  more  than  hunger 
and  thirst,  perhaps.  So  Weary  was  merciless,  and 
drove  them  forward  without  a  stop  until  the  first 
jumble  of  hills  and  deep-worn  gullies  held  them 
back  from  easy  traveling. 

But  the  Happy  Family  had  not  ridden  those 
breaks  for  cattle,  all  these  years,  to  be  hindered 

179 


Flying    U     Ranch 

by  rough  going.  Weary,  when  the  band  stopped 
and  huddled,  blatting  incessantly  against  a  sheer 
wall  of  sandstone  and  gravel,  got  the  herders  to 
gether  and  told  them  what  he  wanted. 

"You  take  'em  down  that  slope  till  you  come 
to  the  second  little  coulee.  Don't  go  up  the  first 
one — that's  a  blind  pocket.  In  the  second  coulee, 
up  a  mile  or  so,  there's  a  spring  creek.  You  can 
hold  'em  there  on  water  for  half  an  hour.  That's 
more  than  any  of  yuh  deserve.  Haze  'em  down 
there." 

The  herders  did  not  know  it,  but  that  second 
coulee  was  the  rude  gateway  to  an  intricate  system 
of  high  ridges  and  winding  waterways  that  would 
later  be  dry  as  a  bleached  bone — the  real  beginning 
of  the  bad  lands  which  border  the  Missouri  river 
for  long,  terrible  miles.  Down  there,  it  is  possible 
for  two  men  to  reach  places  where  they  may  con 
verse  quite  easily  across  a  chasm,  and  yet  be  com 
pelled  to  ride  fifteen  or  twenty  miles,  perhaps,  in 
order  to  shake  hands.  Yet,  even  in  that  scrap- 

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Flying    U     Ranch 

heap  of  Nature  there  are  ways  of  passing  deep  into 
the  heart  of  the  upheaval. 

The  Happy  Family  knew  those  ways  as  they 
knew  the  most  complicated  figures  of  the  quad 
rilles  they  danced  so  lightfootedly  with  the  girls 
of  the  Bear  Paw  country.  When  they  forced  the 
sheep  and  their  herders  out  of  the  coulee  Weary 
had  indicated  he  sent  Irish  and  Pink  ahead  to  point 
the  way,  and  he  told  them  to  head  for  the  Wash 
Bowl;  which  they  did  with  praiseworthy  zeal  and 
scant  pity  for  the  sheep. 

When  at  last,  after  a  slow,  heartbreaking  climb 
up  a  long,  bare  ridge,  Pink  and  Irish  paused  upon 
the  brow  of  a  slope  and  let  the  trail-weary  band 
spill  itself  reluctantly  down  the  steep  slope  beyond, 
the  sun  stood  high  in  the  blue  above  them  and 
their  stomachs  clamored  for  food;  by  which  signs 
they  knew  that  it  must  be  near  noon. 

When  the  last  sheep  had  passed,  blatting  dis 
cordantly,  down  the  bluff,  Weary  halted  the  sweat 
ing  herders  for  a  parting  admonition. 

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Flying    U     Ranch 

"We  don't  aim  to  deal  you  any  more  misery, 
for  a  while,  if  you  stay  where  you're  at.  You're 
only  working  for  a  living,  like  the  rest  of  us — but 
I  must  say  I  don't  admire  your  trade  none.  Any 
way,  I'll  send  some  of  your  bunch  down  here  with 
grub  and  beds.  This  is  good  enough  range  for 
sheep.  You  keep  away  from  the  Flying  U  and  no 
body '11  bother  you.  Over  there  in  them  trees,"  he 
added,  pointing  a  gloved  finger  toward  a  little 
grove  on  the  far  side  of  the  basin,  "you'll  find  g. 
cabin,  and  water.  And,  farther  down  the  river 
there's  pretty  good  grass,  in  the  little  bottoms. 
Now,  git." 

The  herders  looked  as  if  they  would  enjoy  mur 
dering  them  all,  but  they  did  not  say  a  word.  With 
their  dogs  at  heel  they  scrambled  down  the  bluff 
in  the  wake  of  their  sheep,  and  the  Happy  Family, 
rolling  cigarettes  while  they  watched  them  depart, 
told  one  another  that  this  settled  that  bunch;  they 
wouldn't  bed  down  in  the  Flying  U  door-yard  that 
night,  anyway. 

182 


CHAPTER   XI 

Weary  Unburdens 

Hungry  with  the  sharp,  gnawing  hunger  of 
healthy  stomachs  accustomed  to  regular  and  gener 
ous  feeding;  tired  with  the  weariness  of  healthy 
muscles  pushed  past  their  accustomed  limit  of  ac 
tion;  and  hot  with  the  unaccustomed  heat  of  a 
blazing  day  shunted  unaccountably  into  the  midst 
of  soft  spring  weather,  the  Happy  Family  rode 
out  of  the  embrace  of  the  last  barren  coulee  and 
up  on  the  wide  level  where  the  breeze  swept  grate 
fully  up  from  the  west,  and  where  every  day 
brought  with  it  a  deeper  tinge  of  green  into  its 
grassy  carpet. 

Only  for  this  harassment  of  the  Dot  sheep,  the 
roundup  wagons  would  be  loaded  and  ready  to 
rattle  abroad  over  the  land.  Meadow  larks  and 
curlews  and  little,  pert-eyed  ground  sparrows 

183 


Flying    U    Ranch 

called  out  to  them  that  roundup  time  was  come. 
They  passed  a  bunch  of  feeding  Flying  U  cattle, 
and  flat-ribbed,  bandy-legged  calves  galloped  in 
brief  panic  to  their  mothers  and  from  the  sanctu 
ary  of  grass-filled  paunches  watched  the  riders 
with  wide,  inquisitive  eyes. 

"We  ought  to  be  starting  out,  by  now,"  Weary 
observed  a  bit  gloomily  to  Andy  and  Pink,  who 
rode  upon  either  side  of  him.  "The  calf  crop  is 
going  to  be  good,  if  this  weather  holds  on  another 

two  weeks  or  so.  But "  he  waved  his  cigarette 

disgustedly  " that  darned  Dot  outfit  would 

be  all  over  the  place,  if  we  pulled  out  on  roundup 
and  left  'em  the  run  of  things."  He  smoked  mood 
ily  for  a  minute.  "My  religion  has  changed  a  lot 
in  the  last  few  days,"  he  observed  whimsically. 
"My  idea  of  hell  is  a  place  where  there  ain't  any 
thing  but  sheep  and  sheepherders ;  and  cowpunch- 
ers  have  got  to  spend  thousands  uh  years  right  in 
the  middle  of  the  corrals." 

"If  that's  the  case,  I'm  going  to  quit  cussing,  and 
184 


Flying    U    Ranch 

say  my  prayers  every  night,"  Andy  Green  asserted 
emphatically. 

"What  worries  me,"  Weary  confided,  obeying 
the  impulse  to  talk  over  his  troubles  with  those 
who  sympathized,  "is  how  I'm  going  to  keep  the 
work  going  along  like  it  ought  to,  and  at  the  same 
time  keep  them  Dot  sheep  outa  the  house.  Dunk's 
wise,  all  right.  He  knows  enough  about  the  cow 
business  to  know  we've  got  to  get  out  on  the  range 
pretty  quick,  now.  And  he's  so  mean  that  every 
day  or  every  half  day  he  can  feed  his  sheep  on 
Flying  U  grass,  he  calls  that  much  to  the  good. 
And  he  knows  we  won't  go  to  opening  up  any 
real  gun-fights  if  we  can  get  out  of  it;  he  counts 
on  our  faunching  around  and  kicking  up  a  lot  of 
dust,  maybe — but  we  won't  do  anything  like  what 
he'd  do,  in  our  places.  He  knows  the  Old  Man 
and  Chip  are  gone,  and  he  knows  we've  just  nat 
urally  got  to  sit  back  and  swallow  our  tongues  be 
cause  we  haven't  any  authority.  Mamma!  It 
comes  pretty  tough,  when  a  low-down  skunk  like 

185 


Flying    U    Ranch 

that  just  banks  on  your  doing  the  square  thing. 
He  wouldn't  do  it,  but  he  knows  we  will;  and  so 
he  takes  advantage  of  white  men  and  gets  the  best 
of  'em.  And  if  we  should  happen  to  break  out 
and  do  something,  he  knows  the  herders  would  be 
the  ones  to  get  it  in  the  neck;  and  he'd  wait  till 

the  dust  settled,  and  bob  up  with  the  sheriff 

He  waved  his  hand  again  with  a  hopeless  gesture. 
"It  may  not  look  that  way  on  the  face  of  it,"  he 
added  gloomily,  "but  Dunk  has  got  us  right  where 
he  wants  us.  From  the  way  they've  been  letting 
sheep  on  our  land,  time  and  time  again,  I'd  gamble 
he's  just  trying  to  make  us  so  mad  we'll  break  out. 
He's  got  it  in  for  the  whole  outfit,  from  the  Old 
Man  and  the  Little  Doctor  down  to  Slim.  If 
any  of  us  boys  got  into  trouble,  the  Old  Man  would 
spend  his  last  cent  to  clear  us;  and  Dunk  knows 
that  just  as  well  as  he  knows  the  way  from  the 
house  to  the  stable.  He'd  see  to  it  that  it  would 
just  about  take  the  Old  Man's  last  cent,  too.  And 
he's  using  these  Dot  sheep  like  you'd  use  a  red 

186 


Flying    U     Ranch 

flag  on  a  bull,  to  make  us  so  crazy  mad  we'll  kill 
off  somebody. 

"That's  why,"  he  said  to  them  all  when  he  saw 
that  they  had  ridden  up  close  that  they  might  hear 
what  he  was  saying,  "I've  been  hollering  so  loud 
for  the  meek-and-mild  stunt.  When  I  slapped  him 
on  the  jaw,  and  he  stood  there  and  took  it,  I  saw 
his  game.  He  had  a  witness  to  swear  I  hit  him  and 
he  didn't  hit  back.  And  when  I  saw  them  Dots  in 
our  field  again,  I  knew,  just  as  well  as  if  Dunk 
had  told  me,  that  he  was  kinda  hoping  we'd  kill  a 
herder  or  two  so  he  could  cinch  us  good  and  plenty. 
I  don't  say,"  he  qualified  with  a  rueful  grin,  "that 
Dunk  went  into  the  sheep  business  just  to  get  r-re- 
venge,  as  they  say  in  shows.  But  if  he  can  make 
money  running  sheep — and  he  can,  all  right,  be 
cause  there's  more  money  in  them  right  now  than 
there  is  in  cattle — and  at  the  same  time  get  a  good 
whack  at  the  Flying  U,  he's  the  lad  that  will  sure 
make  a  running  jump  at  the  chance."  He  spat 
upon  the  burnt  end  of  his  cigarette  stub  from  force 


Flying    U    Ranch 

of  the  habit  that  fear  of  range  fires  had  built,  and 
cast  it  petulantly  from  him;  as  if  he  would  like 
to  have  been  able  to  throw  Dunk  and  his  sheep 
problem  as  easily  out  of  his  path. 

"So  I  wish  you  boys  would  hang  onto  yourselves 
when  you  hear  a  sheep  blatting  under  your  win 
dow,"  he  summed  up  his  unburdening  whimsically. 
"As  Bud  said  this  morning,  you  can't  hang  a  man 
for  telling  a  sheepherder  you'll  take  off  his  shoes. 
And  they  can't  send  us  over  the  road  for  moving 
that  band  of  sheep  onto  new  range  to-day.  Last 
night  you  all  were  kinda  disorderly,  maybe,  but 
you  didn't  hurt  anybody,  or  destroy  any  property. 
You  see  what  I  mean.  Our  only  show  is  to  stop 
with  our  toes  on  the  right  side  of  the  dead  line." 

"If  Andy,  here,  would  jest  git  his  think-wheels 
greased  and  going  good,"  Big  Medicine  suggested 
loudly,  "he  ought  to  frame  up  something  that 
would  put  them  Dots  on  the  run  permanent,  I 
d'no,  by  cripes,  why  it  is  a  feller  can  always  think 
uh  lies  and  joshes  by  the  dozens,  and  put  'em 

188 


Flying    U     Ranch 


over  O.  K.  when  there  ain't  nothing  to  be  made 
out  of  it  except  hard  feelin's;  and  then  when  a  deal 
like  this  here  sheep  deal  comes  up,  he's  got  about 
as  many  idees,  by  cripes,  as  that  there  line-back 
calf  over  there.  Honest  to  grandma,  Andy  makes 
me  feel  kinda  faint.  Only  time  he  did  have  a 
chanc't,  he  let  them "  It  occurred  to  Big  Med 
icine  at  that  point  that  perhaps  his  remarks  might 
be  construed  by  the  object  of  them  as  being  of 
fensively  personal.  He  turned  his  head  and 
grinned  good-naturedly  in  Andy's  direction,  and 
refrained  from  finishing  what  he  was  going  to 
say.  "I  sure  do  like  them  wind-flowers  scattered 
all  over  the  ground,"  he  observed  with  such  de 
liberate  and  ostentatious  irrelevance  that  the 
Happy  Family  laughed,  even  to  Andy  Green,  who 
had  at  first  been  inclined  toward  anger. 

"Everything,"  declared  Andy  in  the  tone  of  a 
paid  instructor,  "has  its  proper  time  and  place, 
boys;  I've  told  you  that  before.  For  instance,  / 
wouldn't  try  to  kill  a  skunk  by  talking  it  to  death ; 

189 


Flying    U     Ranch 

and  I  wouldn't  be  hopeful  of  putting  the  run  on 
this  Dunk  person  by  telling  him  ghost  stories.  As 
to  ideas — I'm  plumb  full  of  them.  But  they're  all 
about  grub,  just  right  at  present." 

That  started  Slim  and  Happy  Jack  to  complain 
ing  because  no  one  had  had  sense  enough  to  go 
back  after  some  lunch  before  taking  that  long  trail 
south;  the  longer  because  it  was  a  slow  one,  with 
sheep  to  set  the  pace.  And  by  the  time  they  had 
presented  their  arguments  against  the  Happy  Fam 
ily's  having  enough  brains  to  last  them  overnight, 
and  the  Happy  Family  had  indignantly  pointed  out 
just  where  the  mental  deficiency  was  most  notice 
able,  they  were  upon  that  last,  broad  stretch  of 
"bench"  land  beyond  which  lay  Flying  U  coulee 
and  Patsy  and  dinner ;  a  belated  dinner,  to  be  sure, 
but  for  that  the  more  welcome. 

And  when  they  reached  the  point  where  they 
could  look  away  to  the  very  rim  of  the  coulee, 
they  saw  sheep — sheep  to  the  skyline,  feeding  scat 
tered  and  at  ease,  making  the  prairie  look,  in  the 

190 


Flying    U    Ranch 

distance,  as  if  it  were  covered  with  a  thin  growth 
of  gray  sage-brush.  Four  herders  moved  slowly 
upon  the  outskirts,  and  the  dogs  were  little,  scurry 
ing,  black  dots  which  stopped  occasionally  to  wait 
thankfully  until  the  master-minds  again  urged 
them  to  endeavor. 

The  Happy  Family  drew  up  and  stared  in 
silence. 

"Do  I  see  sheep?"  Pink  inquired  plaintively  at 
last.  "Tell  me,  somebody." 

"It's  that  bunch  you  fellows  tackled  last  night," 
said  Weary  miserably.  "I  ought  to  have  had 
sense  enough  to  leave  somebody  on  the  ranch  to 
look  out  for  this." 

"They've  got  their  nerve,"  stated  Irish,  "after 
the  deal  they  got  last  night.  I'd  have  bet  good 
money  that  you  couldn't  drag  them  herders  across 
Flying  U  coulee  with  a  log  chain." 

"Say,  by  golly,  do  we  have  to  drive  this  here 
bunch  anywheres  before  we  git  anything  to  eat?" 
Slim  wanted  to  know  distressfully. 

191 


Flying    U    Ranch 

Weary  considered  briefly.  "No,  I  guess  we'll 
pass  'em  up  for  the  present.  An  hour  or  so  won't 
make  much  difference  in  the  long  run,  and  our 
horses  are  about  all  in,  right  now " 

"So'm  I,  by  cripes !"  Big  Medicine  attested,  grin 
ning  mirthlessly.  "This  here  sheep  business  is 
plumb  wearin'  on  a  man.  'Specially,"  he  added 
with  a  fretful  note,  "when  you've  got  to  handle 
'em  gentle.  The  things  I'd  like  to  do  to  them  Dots 
is  all  ruled  outa  the  game,  seems  like.  Honest  to 
grandma,  a  little  gore  would  look  better  to  me 
right  now  than  a  Dutch  picnic  before  the  foam's 
all  blowed  off  the  refreshments.  Lemme  kill  off 
jest  one  herder,  Weary?"  he  pleaded.  "The  one 
that  took  a  shot  at  me  las'  night.  Purty,  please!" 

"If  you  killed  one,"  Weary  told  him  glumly, 
"you  might  as  well  make  a  clean  sweep  and  take 
in  the  whole  bunch." 

"Well,  I  won't  charge  nothin'  extra  fer  that, 
either,"  Bud  assured  him  generously.  "I'm  willin' 
to  throw  in  the  other  three — and  the  dawgs,  too, 

192 


Flying    U     Ranch 

by  cripes!"  He  goggled  the  Happy  Family  quiz 
zically.  "Nobody  can't  say  there's  anything  small 
about  me.  Why,  down  in  the  Coconino  country 
they  used  to  set  half  a  dozen  greasers  diggin' 
graves,  by  cripes,  soon  as  I  started  in  to  argy  with 
a  man.  It  was  a  safe  bet  they'd  need  three  or  four, 
anyways,  if  old  Bud  cut  loose  oncet.  Sheep- 
herders?  Why,  they  jest  natcherly  couldn't  keep 
enough  on  hand,  securely,  to  run  their  sheep.  They 
used  to  order  sheepherders  like  they  did  wool 
sacks,  by  cripes!  You  could  always  tell  when  I 
was  in  the  country,  by  the  number  uh  extra  herd 
ers  them  sheep  outfits  always  kep'  in  reserve.  Hon 
est  to  grandma,  I've  knowed  two  or  three  outfits 
to  club  together  and  ship  in  a  carload  at  a  time, 
when  they  heard  I  was  headed  their  way.  And  so 
when  it  comes  to  killin'  off  four,  why  that  ain't 
skurcely  enough  to  make  it  worth  m'while  to  dirty 
up  m'gun!" 

"Aw,  I  betche  yuh  never  killed  a  man  in  your 
life!"   Happy  Jack  grumbled  in  his  characteristic 

193 


Flying    U    Ranch 

tone  of  disparagement;  but  such  was  his  respect 
for  Big  Medicine's  prowess  that  he  took  care  not 
to  speak  loud  enough  to  be  overheard  by  that  mod 
est  gentleman,  who  continued  with  certain  fear 
some  details  of  alleged  murderous  exploits  of  his 
own,  down  in  Coconino  County,  Arizona. 

But  as  they  passed  the  detested  animals,  thank 
ful  that  the  trail  permitted  them  to  ride  by  at  a 
distance  sufficient  to  blur  the  most  unsavory  de 
tails,  even  Big  Medicine  gave  over  his  deliberate 
boastings  and  relapsed  into  silence. 

He  had  begun  his  fantastic  vauntings  from  an 
instinctive  impulse  to  leaven  with  humor  a  situa 
tion  which,  at  the  moment,  could  not  be  bettered. 
Just  as  they  had,  when  came  the  news  of  the  Old 
Man's  dire  plight,  sought  to  push  the  tragedy  of 
it  into  the  background  and  cling  to  their  creed  of 
optimism,  they  had  avoided  openly  facing  the 
sheep  complication  squarely  with  mutual  admis 
sions  of  all  it  might  mean  to  the  Flying  U. 

Until  Weary  had  unburdened  his  heart  of  worry 
194 


Flying    U    Ranch 

on  the  ride  home  that  day,  they  had  not  said  much 
about  it,  beyond  a  general  vilification  of  the  sheep 
industry  as  a  whole,  of  Dunk  as  the  chief  of  the 
encroaching  Dots,  and  of  the  herders  personally. 
But  there  were  times  when  they  could  not  well 
avoid  thinking  rather  deeply  upon  the  subject,  even 
if  they  did  refuse  to  put  their  forebodings  into 
speech.  They  were  not  children;  neither  were 
they  to  any  degree  lacking  in  intelligence.  Swear 
ing,  about  herders  and  at  them,  was  all  very  well; 
bluffing,  threatening,  pummel  ing  even  with  willing 
fists,  tearing  down  tents  and  binding  men  with 
ropes  might  serve  to  relieve  the  emotions  upon  occa 
sion.  But  there  was  the  grim  economic  problem 
which  faced  squarely  the  Flying  U  as  a  "cow  outfit" 
— the  problem  of  range  and  water;  the  Happy  Fam 
ily  did  not  call  it  by  name,  but  they  realized  to  the 
full  what  it  meant  to  the  Old  Man  to  have  sheep  just 
over  his  boundary  line  always.  They  realized,  too, 
what  it  meant  to  have  the  Old  Man  absent  at  this 
time — worse,  to  have  him  lying  in  a  hospital,  likely 

195 


Flying    U    Ranch 

to  die  at  any  moment;  what  it  meant  to  have  the 
whole  responsibility  shifted  to  their  shoulders, 
willing  though  they  might  be  to  bear  the  burden; 
what  it  meant  to  have  the  general  of  an  army  gone 
when  the  enemy  was  approaching  in  overwhelming 
numbers. 

Pink,  when  they  were  descending  the  first  slope 
of  the  bluff  which  was  the  southern  rim  of  Flying 
U  coulee,  turned  and  glared  vindictively  back  at 
the  wavering,  gray  blanket  out  there  to  the  west. 
When  he  faced  to  the  front  his  face  had  the  look  it 
wore  when  he  was  fighting. 

"So  help  me,  Josephine!"  he  gritted  desperately, 
"we've  got  to  clean  the  range  of  them  Dots  be 
fore  the  Old  Man  comes  back,  or "  He 

snapped  his  jaws  shut  viciously. 

Weary  turned  haggard  eyes  toward  him. 

"How?"  he  asked  simply.  And  Pink  had  no 
answer  for  him. 


196 


CHAPTER   XII 

Two  of  a  Kind 

Patsy,  staunch  old  partisan  that  he  was,  placed 
before  them  much  food  which  he  had  tried  his 
best  to  keep  hot  without  burning  everything  to  a 
crisp,  and  while  they  ate  with  ravenous  haste  he 
told,  with  German  epithets  and  a  trembling  lower 
jaw,  of  his  troubles  that  day. 

"Dem  sheeps,  dey  coom  by  der  leetle  pasture," 
he  lamented  while  he  poured  coffee  muddy  from 
long  boiling.  "Looks  like  dey  know  so  soon  you 
ride  away,  und  dey  cooms  cheeky  as  you  pleece, 
und  eats  der  grass  und  crawls  under  der  fence 
and  leafs  der  vool  sthicking  by  der  vires.  I  goes 
out  mit  a  club,  py  cosh,  und  der  sheeps  chust  looks 
und  valks  by  some  better  place  alreatty,  und  I 
throw  rocks  and  yells  till  mine  neck  iss  sore. 

"Und  dose  herders,  dey  sets  dem  by  der  rock 
197 


Flying    U     Ranch 

and  laugh  till  I  felt  like  I  could  kill  der  whole 
punch,  by  cosh!  Und  von  yells,  'Hey,  dutchy, 
pring  me  some  pie,  alreatty !'  Und  he  laughs  some 
more  pecause  der  sheeps  dey  don't  go  avay;  dey 
chust  run  around  und  eat  more  grass  and  baa-aa!" 
He  turned  and  went  heavily  back  to  the  greasy 
range  with  the  depleted  coffee  pot,  lifted  the  lid  of 
a  kettle  and  looked  in  upon  the  contents  with  a 
purely  mechanical  glance;  gave  a  perfunctory  prod 
or  two  with  a  long-handled  fork,  and  came  back 
to  stand  uneasily  behind  Weary. 

"If  you  poys  are  goin'  to  shtand  fer  dot,"  he 
began  querulously,  "Py  cosh  I  von't!  Py  myself 
I  vill  go  and  tell  dot  Dunk  W'ittaker  vot  low- 
down  skunk  I  t'ink  he  iss.  Sheep's  vool  shtickin' 
by  der  fences  efferwhere  on  der  ranch,  py  cosh! 
Dot  vould  sure  kill  der  Old  Man  quick  if  he  see 
it.  Shtinkin'  off  sheeps  py  our  noses  all  der  time, 
till  I  can't  eat  no  more  mit  der  shmell  of  dem.  Nef- 
fer  pefore  did  I  see  vool  on  der  Flying  U  fences, 
py  cosh,  und  sheeps  baa-aain'  in  der  coulee!" 

198 


Flying    U     Ranch 

Never  had  they  seen  Patsy  take  so  to  heart  a 
matter  of  mere  business  importance.  They  did 
not  say  much  to  him;  there  was  not  much  that 
they  could  say.  They  ate  their  fill  and  went  out 
disconsolately  to  discuss  the  thing  among  them 
selves,  away  from  Patsy's  throaty  complainings. 
They  hated  it  as  badly  as  did  he;  with  Weary's 
urgent  plea  for  no  violence  holding  them  in  leash, 
they  hated  it  more,  if  that  were  possible. 

The  Native  Son  tilted  his  head  unobtrusively 
stableward  when  he  caught  Andy's  eye,  and  as  un 
obtrusively  wandered  away  from  the  group.  Andy 
stopped  long  enough  to  roll  and  light  a  cigarettei 
and  then  strolled  after  him  with  apparent  aimless- 
ness,  secretly  curious  over  the  summons.  He 
found  Miguel  in  the  stable  waiting  for  him,  and 
Miguel  led  the  way,  rope  in  hand  across  the  corral 
and  into  the  little  pasture  where  fed  a  horse  he 
meant  to  ride.  He  did  not  say  anything  until  he 
had  turned  to  close  the  gate,  and  to  make  sure 
that  they  were  alone  and  that  their  departure  had 

199 


Flying    U    Ranch 

not  carried  to  the  Happy  Family  any  betraying 
air  of  significance. 

"You  remember  when  you  blew  in  here,  a  few 
weeks  or  so  ago?"  the  Native  Son  asked  abruptly, 
a  twinkle  in  his  fathomless  eyes.  "You  put  up  a 
good  one  on  the  boys,  that  time,  you  remember. 
Bluffed  them  into  thinking  I  was  a  hero  in  dis 
guise,  and  that  you'd  seen  me  pull  off  a  big  stunt 
of  bull-fighting  and  bull-dogging  down  in  Mexico. 
It  was  a  fine  josh.  They  believe  it  yet." 

Andy  glanced  at  him  perplexedly.  "Yes 

but  when  it  turned  out  to  be  true,"  he  amended, 
"the  josh  was  on  me,  I  guess;  I  thought  I  was 
just  lying,  when  I  wasn't.  I've  wondered  a  good 
deal  about  that.  By  gracious,  it  makes  a  man  feel 
funny  to  frame  up  a  yarn  out  of  his  own  think- 
machine,  and  then  find  out  he's  been  telling  the 
truth  all  the  while.  It's  like  a  fellow  handing  out 
a  twenty- four  karat  gold  bar  to  a  rube  by  mis 
take,  under  the  impression  it  only  looks  like  one. 

200 


Flying    U     Ranch 

Of  course  they  believe  it!  Only  they  don't  know 
I  just  merely  hit  the  truth  by  accident." 

The  Native  Son  smiled  his  slow,  amused  smile, 
that  somehow  never  failed  to  be  impressive. 
"That's  the  funny  part  of  it,"  he  drawled.  "You 
didn't.  I  just  piled  another  little  josh  on  top  of 
yours,  that's  all.  7  never  throwed  a  bull  in  my 
life,  except  with  my  lariat.  I'd  heard  a  good  deal 
about  you,  and — well,  I  thought  I'd  see  if  I  could 
go  you  one  better.  And  you  put  that  Mexico  yarn 
across  so  smooth  and  easy,  I  just  simply  couldn't 
resist  the  temptation  to  make  you  think  it  was  all 
straight  goods.  Sabef" 

Andy  Green  did  not  say  a  word,  but  he  looked 
exceedingly  foolish. 

"So  I  think  we  can  both  safely  consider  our 
selves  top-hands  when  it  comes  to  lying,"  the  Na 
tive  Son  went  on  shamelessly.  "And  if  you're 
willing  to  go  in  with  me  on  it  and  help  put  Dunk 

on  the  run "  He  glanced  over  his  shoulder, 

saw  that  Happy  Jack,  on  horseback,  was  coming 

20 1 


Flying    U     Ranch 

out  to  haze  in  the  saddle  bunch,  and  turned  to  stroll 
back  as  lazily  as  he  had  come.  He  continued  to 
speak  smoothly  and  swiftly,  in  a  voice  that  would 
not  carry  ten  paces.  While  Andy  Green,  with 
brown  head  bent  attentively,  listened  eagerly  and 
added  a  sentence  or  two  on  his  own  account  now 
and  then,  and  smiled — which  he  had  not  been  in 
the  habit  of  doing  lately. 

"Say,  you  fellers  are  gittin'  awful  energetic, 
ain't  yuh? — wranglin'  horses  afoot!"  Happy  Jack 
bantered  at  the  top  of  his  voice  when  he  passed 
them  by.  "Better  save  up  your  strength  while 
you  kin.  Weary's  goin'  to  set  us  herdin'  sheep 
agin — and  I  betche  there's  goin'  to  be  something 
more'n  herdin'  on  our  hands  before  we  git 
through." 

"I  wouldn't  be  a  bit  surprised  if  there  was," 
sang  out  Andy,  as  cheerfully  as  if  he  had  been  in 
vited  to  dance  "Ladies'  choice"  with  the  prettiest 
girl  in  the  crowd.  "Wonder  what  hole  he's  going 
to  dump  this  bunch  into,"  he  added  to  the  Native 

202 


Flying    U     Ranch 

Son.  "By  gracious,  he  ought  to  send  'em  just  as 
far  north  as  he  can  drive  'em  without  paying  duty! 
I'd  sure  take  'em  over  into  Canada,  if  it  was  me 
running  the  show." 

"It  was  a  mistake,"  the  Native  Son  volunteered, 
"for  the  whole  bunch  to  go  off  like  we  did  to-day. 
They  had  those  sheep  up  here  on  the  hill  just  for 
a  bait.  They  knew  we'd  go  straight  up  in  the  air 
and  come  down  on  those  two  freaks  herding  'em, 
and  that  gave  them  the  chance  to  cross  the  other 
bunch.  I  thought  so  all  along,  but  I  didn't  like  to 
butt  in." 

"Well  Weary's  mad  enough  now  to  do  things 
that  will  leave  a  dent,  anyway,"  Andy  commented 
under  his  breath  when,  from  the  corral  gate,  he 
got  a  good  look  at  Weary's  profile,  which  showed 
the  set  of  his  mouth  and  chin.  "See  that  mouth? 
It's  hunt  the  top  rail,  and  do  it  quick,  when  old 
Weary  straightens  out  his  lips  like  that." 

Behind  them,  Happy  Jack  bellowed  for  an  open 
gate  and  no  obstructions,  and  they  drew  hastily  to 

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Flying     U     Ranch 

one  side  to  let  the  saddle  horses  gallop  past  with 
a  great  upflinging  of  dust.  Pink,  with  a  quite  ob 
trusive  facetiousness,  began  lustily  chanting  that 
it  looked  to  him  like  a  big  night  to-night — with 
occasional,  furtive  glances  at  Weary's  face;  for 
he,  also,  had  been  quick  to  read  those  close-pressed 
lips,  which  did  not  soften  in  response  to  the  ditty. 
Usually  he  laughed  at  Pink's  drollery. 

They  rode  rather  quietly  upon  the  hill  again, 
to  where  fed  the  sheep.  During  the  hour  or  so 
that  they  had  been  absent  the  sheep  had  not  moved 
appreciably;  they  still  grazed  close  enough  to  the 
boundary  to  make  their  position  seem  a  direct  in 
sult  to  the  Flying  U,  a  virtual  slap  in  the  face.  And 
these  young  men  who  worked  for  the  Flying  U, 
and  who  made  its  interests  right  loyally  their  own, 
were  growing  very,  very  tired  of  turning  the  other 
cheek.  With  them,  the  time  for  profanity  and 
for  horseplay  bluffing  and  judicious  temporizing 
was  past.  There  were  other  lips  besides  Weary's 
that  were  drawn  tight  and  thin  when  they  ap- 

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Flying    U     Ranch 

proached  that  particular  band  of  sheep.  More  than 
one  pair  of  eyes  turned  inquiringly  toward  him 
and  away  again  when  they  met  no  answering  look. 

They  topped  a  rise  of  ground,  and  in  the  shal 
low  wrinkle  which  had  hidden  him  until  now  they 
came  full  upon  Dunk  Whittaker,  riding  a  chunky 
black  which  stepped  restlessly  about  while  he  con 
ferred  in  low  tones  with  a  couple  of  the  herders. 
The  Happy  Family  recognized  them  as  two  of  the 
fellows  in  whose  safe  keeping  they  had  left  their 
ropes  the  night  before.  Dunk  looked  around 
quickly  when  the  group  appeared  over  the  little 
ridge,  scowled,  hesitated  and  then  came  straight 
up  to  them. 

"I  want  you  rowdies  to  bring  back  those  sheep 
you  took  the  trouble  to  drive  off  this  morning," 
he  began,  with  the  even,  grating  voice  and  the 
sneering  lift  of  lip  under  his  little,  black  mustache 
which  the  older  members  of  the  Happy  Family 
remembered — and  hated — so  vividly.  "I've  stood 
just  all  I'm  going  to  stand,  of  these  typically  Fly- 

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Flying    U    Ranch 

ing  U  performances  you've  been  indulging  in  so 
freely  during  the  past  week.  It's  all  very  well  to 
terrorize  a  neighborhood  of  long-haired  rubes  who 
don't  know  enough  to  teach  you  your  places;  but 

interfering  with  another  man's   property  is " 

"Interfering  with  another — what?'  Big  Medi 
cine,  his  pale  blue  eyes  standing  out  more  like  a 
frog's  than  ever  upon  his  face,  gave  his  horse  a 
kick  and  lunged  close  that  he  might  lean  and  thrust 
his  red  face  near  to  Dunk's.  "Another  what?  I 
don't  see  nothin'  in  your  saddle  that  looks  t'me 
like  a  man,  by  cripes!  All  /  can  see  is  a  smooth- 
skinned,  slippery  vermin  I'd  hate  to  name  a  snake 
after,  that  crawls  around  in  the  dark  and  lets  cheap 
rough-necks  do  all  his  dirty  work.  I've  saw  dogs 
sneak  up  and  grab  a  man  behind,  but  most  always 
they  let  out  a  growl  or  two  first.  And  even  a 
rattler  is  square  enough  to  buzz  at  yuh  and  give 
yuh  a  chanc't  to  side-step  him.  Honest  to 
grandma,  I  don't  hardly  know  what  kinda  reptyle 
y'are.  I  hate  to  insult  any  of  'em,  by  cripes,  by 

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Flying    U    Ranch 

namin'  yuh  after  'em.  But  don't,  for  Lordy's  sake, 
ever  call  yourself  a  man  agin!" 

Big  Medicine  turned  his  head  and  spat  disgust 
edly  into  the  grass  and  looked  back  slightingly 
with  other  annihilating  remarks  close  behind  his 
wide-apart  teeth,  but  instead  of  speaking  he  made 
an  unbelievably  quick  motion  with  his  hand.  The 
blow  smacked  loudly  upon  Dunk's  cheek,  and  so 
nearly  sent  him  out  of  the  saddle  that  he  grabbed 
for  the  horn  to  save  himself. 

"Oh,  I  seen  yuh  keepin'  yer  hand  next  yer  six- 
gun  all  the  while,"  Big  Medicine  bawled.  "That's 
one  reason  I  say  yuh  ain't  no  man !  Yuh  wouldn't 
dast  talk  up  to  a  prairie  dog  if  yuh  wasn't  all  set  to 
make  a  quick  draw.  Yuh  got  your  face  slapped 
oncet  before  by  a  Fly  in'  U  man,  and  yuh  had  it 
comin'.  Now  you're — gittin' — it — done — right!" 

If  you  have  ever  seen  an  irate,  proletarian 
mother  cuffing  her  offspring  over  an  empty  wood- 
box,  you  may  picture  perhaps  the  present  pro 
ceeding  of  Big  Medicine.  To  many  a  man  the 

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Flying    U    Ranch 

thing  would  have  been  unfeasible,  after  the  first 
blow,  because  of  the  horses.  But  Big  Medicine 
was  very  nearly  all  that  he  claimed  to  be;  and  one 
of  his  pet  vanities  was  his  horsemanship;  he  man 
aged  to  keep  within  a  fine  slapping  distance  of 
Dunk.  He  stopped  when  his  hand  began  to  sting 
through  his  glove. 

"Now  you  keep  your  hand  away  from  that  gun 
— that  you  ain't  honest  enough  to  carry  where 
folks  can  see  it,  but  've  got  it  cached  in  your 
pocket!"  he  thundered.  "And  go  on  with  what 
you  was  goin'  t'say.  Only  don't  get  swell-headed 
enough  to  think  you're  a  man,  agin.  You  ain't." 

"I've  got  this  to  say!"  Mere  type  cannot  re 
produce  the  malevolence  of  Dunk's  spluttering 
speech.  "I've  sent  for  the  county  sheriff  and  a 
dozen  deputies  to  arrest  you,  and  you,  and  you, 
damn  you!"  He  was  pointing  a  shaking  finger  at 
the  older  members  of  the  Happy  Family,  whom 
he  recognized  not  gladly,  but  too  well.  "I'll  have 
you  all  in  Deer  Lodge  before  that  lying,  thieving, 

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Flying    U    Ranch 

cattle-stealing  Old  Man  of  yours  can  lift  a  finger. 
I'll  sheep  Flying  U  coulee  to  the  very  doors  of 
the  white  house.  I'll  skin  the  range  between  here 
and  the  river — and  I'll  have  every  one  of  you 
hounds  put  where  the  dogs  won't  bite  you!"  He 
drew  a  hand  across  his  mouth  and  smiled  as  they 
say  Satan  himself  can  smile  upon  occasion. 

"You've  done  enough  to  send  you  all  over  the 
road;  destroying  property  and  assaulting  harmless 
men — you  wait!  There  are  other  and  better  ways 
to  fight  than  with  the  fists,  and  I  haven't  forgotten 
any  of  you  fellows — there  are  a  few  more  rounders 
among  you " 

"Hey!  You  apologize  fer  that,  by  cripes,  er  I'll 

kill  yuh  the  longest  way  I  know.  And  that " 

Big  Medicine  again  laid  violent  hands  upon  Dunk, 
"and  that  way  won't  feel  good,  now  I'm  tellin' 
yuh.  Apologise,  er " 

"Say,  all  this  don't  do  any  good,  Bud,"  Weary 
expostulated.  "Let  Dunk  froth  at  the  mouth  if 
he  wants  to;  what  we  want  is  to  get  these  sheep 

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Flying    U    Ranch 

off  the  range.  And,"  he  added  recklessly,  "so  long 
as  the  sheriff  is  headed  for  us  anyway,  we  may 
as  well  get  busy  and  make  it  worth  his  while. 

So "  He  stopped,  silenced  by  a  most  amazing 

interruption. 

On  the  brow  of  the  hill,  when  first  they  had 
sighted  Dunk  in  the  hollow,  something  had  gone 
wrong  with  Miguel's  saddle  so  that  he  had  stopped 
behind;  and,  to  keep  him  company,  Andy  had 
stopped  also  and  waited  for  him.  Later,  when 
Dunk  was  spluttering  threats,  they  had  galloped  up 
to  the  edge  of  the  group  and  pulled  their  horses 
to  a  stand.  Now,  Miguel  rode  abruptly  close  to 
Dunk  as  rides  one  with  a  purpose. 

He  leaned  and  peered  intently  into  Dunk's  dis 
torted  countenance  until  every  man  there,  struck 
by  his  manner,  was  watching  him  curiously.  Then 
he  sat  back  in  the  saddle,  straightened  his  legs  in 
the  stirrups  and  laughed.  And  like  his  smile  when 
he  would  have  it  so,  or  the  little  twitch  of  shoul 
ders  by  which  he  could  so  incense  a  man,  that 

210 


HE    LEANED    AND    PEERED    INTENTLY    INTO    DUNK'S    DISTORTED    COUNTENANCE. 

P.    211 


Flying    U    Ranch 

laugh  brought  a  deeper  flush  to  Dunk's  face,  red 
dened  though  it  was  by  Big  Medicine's  vigorous 
slapping. 

"Say,  you've  got  nerve,"  drawled  the  Native 
Son,  "to  let  a  sheriff  travel  toward  you.  I  can  re 
member  when  you  were  more  timid,  amigo."  He 
turned  his  head  until  his  eyes  fell  upon  Andy. 
"Say,  Andy!"  he  called.  "Come  and  take  a  look 
at  this  hotnbre.  You'll  have  to  think  back  a  few 
years,"  he  assisted  laconically. 

In  response,  Andy  rode  up  eagerly.  Like  the 
Native  Son,  he  leaned  and  peered  into  eyes  that 
stared  back  defiantly,  wavered,  and  turned  away. 
Andy  also  sat  back  in  the  saddle  then,  and  snorted. 

"So  this  is  the  Dunk  Whittaker  that's  been  rais 
ing  merry  hell  around  here !  And  talks  about  send 
ing  for  the  sheriff,  huh?  I've  always  heard  that 
a  lot  wh  gall  is  the  best  disguise  a  man  can  hide 
under,  but,  by  gracious,  this  beats  the  deuce !"  He 
turned  to  the  astounded  Happy  Family  with  grow 
ing  excitement  in  his  manner. 

211 


Flying    U    Ranch 

"Boys,  we  don't  have  to  worry  much  about  this 
gazabo!  We'll  just  freeze  onto  him  till  the  sheriff 
heaves  in  sight.  Gee!  There'll  sure  be  something 
stirring  when  we  tell  him  who  this  Dunk  person 
really  is!  And  you  say  he  was  in  with  the  Old 
Man,  once?  Oh,  Lord!"  He  looked  with  wither 
ing  contempt  at  Dunk ;  and  Dunk's  glance  flickered 
again  and  dropped,  just  as  his  hand  dropped  to 
the  pocket  of  his  coat. 

"No,  yuh  don't,  by  cripes!"  Big  Medicine's 
hand  gripped  Dunk's  arm  on  the  instant.  With 
his  other  he  plucked  the  gun  from  Dunk's  pocket, 
and  released  him  as  he  would  let  go  of  something 
foul  which  he  had  been  compelled  to  touch. 

"He'll  be  good,  or  he'll  lose  his  dinner  quick," 
drawled  the  Native  Son,  drawing  his  own  silver- 
mounted  six-shooter  and  resting  it  upon  the  saddle 
horn  so  that  it  pointed  straight  at  Dunk's  dia 
phragm.  "You  take  Weary  off  somewhere  and 
tell  him  something  about  this  deal,  Andy.  I'll 
watch  this  slippery  gentleman."  He  smiled  slowly 

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Flying    U    Ranch 

and  got  an  answering  grin  from  Andy  Greene,  who 
immediately  rode  a  few  rods  away,  with  Weary 
and  Pink  close  behind. 

"Say,  by  golly,  what's  Dunk  wanted  fer?"  Slim 
blurted  inquisitively  after  a  short  silence. 

"Not  for  riding  or  driving  over  a  bridge  faster 
than  a  walk,  Slim,"  purred  the  Native  Son,  shifting 
his  gun  a  trifle  as  Dunk  moved  uneasily  in  the 
saddle.  "You  know  the  man.  Look  at  his  face — 
and  use  your  imagination,  if  you've  got  any." 


213 


CHAPTER   XIII 

The  Happy  Family  Learn  Something 

"Well,  I  hope  this  farce  is  about  over,"  Dunk 
sneered,  with  as  near  an  approach  to  his  old,  super 
cilious  manner  as  he  could  command,  when  the 
three  who  had  ridden  apart  returned  presently. 
"Perhaps,  Weary,  you'll  be  good  enough  to  have 
this  fellow  put  up  his  gun,  and  these "  he  hesi 
tated,  after  a  swift  glance,  to  apply  any  epithet 
whatever  to  the  Happy  Family.  "I  have  two  wit 
nesses  here  to  swear  that  you  have  without  any 
excuse  assaulted  and  maligned  and  threatened  me, 
and  you  may  consider  yourselves  lucky  if  I  do  not 
insist " 

"Ah,  cut  that  out,"  Andy  advised  wearily.  "I 
don't  know  how  it  strikes  the  rest,  but  it  sounds 
pretty  sickening  to  me.  Don't  overlook  the  fact 
that  two  of  us  happen  to  know  all  about  you;  and 

214 


Flying    U    Ranch 

we  know  just  where  to  send  word,  to  dig  up  a  lot 
more  identification.  So  bluffing  ain't  going  to  help 
you  out,  a  darned  bit." 

"Miguel,  you  can  go  with  Andy,"  Weary  said 
with  brisk  decision.  "Take  Dunk  down  to  the 
ranch  till  the  sheriff  gets  here — if  it's  straight 
goods  about  Dunk  sending  for  him.  If  he  didn't, 
we  can  take  Dunk  in  to-morrow,  ourselves."  He 
turned  and  fixed  a  cold,  commanding  eye  upon 
the  slack-jawed  herders.  "Come  along,  you  two, 
and  get  these  sheep  headed  outa  here." 

"Say,  we'll  just  lock  him  up  in  the  blacksmith 
shop,  and  come  on  back,"  Andy  amended  the  order 
after  his  own  free  fashion.  "He  couldn't  get  out 
in  a  million  years;  not  after  I'm  through  staking 
him  out  to  the  anvil  with  a  log-chain."  He 
smiled  maliciously  into  Dunk's  fear-yellowed  coun 
tenance,  and  waved  him  a  signal  to  ride  ahead, 
which  Dunk  did  without  a  word  of  protest  while 
the  Happy  Family  looked  on  dazedly. 

"What's  it  all  about,  Weary?"  Irish  asked,  when 
215 


Flying    U    Ranch 

the  three  were  gone.  "What  is  it  they've  got  on 
Dunk?  Must  be  something  pretty  fierce,  the  way 
he  wilted  down  into  the  saddle." 

"You'll  have  to  wait  and  ask  the  boys."  Weary 
rode  off  to  hurry  the  herders  on  the  far  side  of  the 
band. 

So  the  Happy  Family  remained  perforce  unen 
lightened  upon  the  subject  and  for  that  they  said 
hard  things  about  Weary,  and  about  Andy  and 
Miguel  as  well.  They  believed  that  they  were  en 
titled  to  know  the  truth,  and  they  called  it  a  smart- 
aleck  trick  to  keep  the  thing  so  almighty  secret. 

There  is  in  resentment  a  crisis;  when  that  crisis 
is  reached,  and  the  dam  of  repression  gives  way, 
the  full  flood  does  not  always  sweep  down  upon 
those  who  have  provoked  the  disaster.  Frequently 
it  happens  that  perfectly  innocent  victims  are  made 
to  suffer.  The  Happy  Family  had  been  extremely 
forbearing,  as  has  been  pointed  out  before.  They 
had  frequently  come  to  the  boiling  point  of  rage 
and  had  cooled  without  committing  any  real  act  of 

216 


Flying    U     Ranch 

violence.  But  that  day  had  held  a  long  series  of 
petty  annoyances;  and  here  was  a  really  important 
thing  kept  from  them  as  if  they  were  mere  out 
siders.  When  Weary  was  gone,  Irish  asked  Pink 
what  crime  Dunk  had  committed  in  the  past.  And 
Pink  shook  his  head  and  said  he  didn't  know.  Irish 
mentally  accused  Pink  of  lying,  and  his  temper 
was  none  the  better  for  the  rebuff,  as  anyone  can 
readily  understand. 

When  the  herders,  therefore,  rounded  up  the 
sheep  and  started  them  moving  south,  the  Happy 
Family  speedily  rebelled  against  that  shuffling,  nib 
bling,  desultory  pace  that  had  kept  them  long, 
weary  hours  in  the  saddle  with  the  other  band. 
But  it  was  Irish  who  first  took  measures  to  ac 
celerate  that  pace. 

He  got  down  his  rope  and  whacked  the  loop 
viciously  down  across  the  nearest  gray  back.  The 
sheep  jumped,  scuttled  away  a  few  paces  and  re 
turned  to  its  nibbling  progress.  Irish  called  it 
names  and  whacked  another. 

217 


Flying    U     Ranch 

After  a  few  minutes  he  grew  tired  of  swinging 
his  loop  and  seeing  it  have  so  fleeting  an  effect, 
and  pulled  his  gun.  He  fired  close  to  the  heels  of 
a  yearling  buck  that  had  more  than  once  stopped 
to  look  up  at  him  foolishly  and  blat,  and  the  buck 
charged  ahead  in  a  panic  at  the  noise  and  the  spat 
of  the  bullet  behind  him. 

"Hit  him  agin  in  the  same  place!"  yelled  Big 
Medicine,  and  drew  his  own  gun.  The  Happy 
Family,  at  that  high  tension  where  they  were  ready 
for  anything,  caught  the  infection  and  began  shoot 
ing  and  yelling  like  crazy  men. 

The  effect  was  not  at  all  what  they  expected. 
Instead  of  adding  impetus  to  the  band,  as  would 
have  been  the  case  if  they  had  been  driving  cattle, 
the  result  was  exactly  the  opposite.  The  sheep 
ran — but  they  ran  to  a  common  center.  As  the 
shooting  went  on  they  bunched  tighter  and  tighter, 
until  it  seemed  as  though  those  in  the  center  must 
surely  be  crushed  flat.  From  an  ambling,  feeding 
company  of  animals,  they  become  a  lumpy  gray 

218 


Flying    U    Ranch 

blanket,  with  here  and  there  a  long,  vacuous  face 
showing  idiotically  upon  the  surface. 

The  herders  grinned  and  drew  together  as 
against  a  common  enemy — or  as  with  a  new  joke  to 
be  discussed  among  themselves.  The  dogs  wan 
dered  helplessly  about,  yelped  half-heartedly  at  the 
woolly  mass,  then  sat  down  upon  their  haunches 
and  lolled  red  tongues  far  out  over  their  pointed  little 
teeth,  and  tilted  knowing  heads  at  the  Happy  Family. 

"Look  at  the  darned  things!"  wailed  Pink,  rid 
ing  twice  around  the  huddle,  almost  ready  to  shed 
tears  of  pure  rage  and  helplessness.  "Git  outa 
that !  Hi !  Woopp-ee !"  He  fired  again  and  again, 
and  gave  the  range-old  cattle-yell;  the  yell  which 
had  sent  many  a  tired  herd  over  many  a  weary 
mile;  the  yell  before  which  had  fled  fat  steers  into 
the  stockyards  at  shipping  time,  and  up  the  chutes 
into  the  cars;  the  yell  that  had  hoarsened  many  a 
cowpuncher's  voice  and  left  him  with  a  mere  croak 
to  curse  his  fate  with;  a  yell  to  bring  results — but 
it  did  not  start  those  sheep. 

219 


Flying    U     Ranch 

The  Happy  Family,  riding  furiously  round  and 
round,  fired  every  cartridge  they  had  upon  their 
persons;  they  said  every  improper  thing  they  could 
remember  or  invent;  they  yelled  until  their  eyes 
were  starting  from  their  sockets;  they  glued  that 
band  of  sheep  so  tight  together  that  dynamite 
could  scarcely  have  pried  them  apart. 

And  the  herders,  sitting  apart  with  grimy  hands 
clasped  loosely  over  hunched-up  knees,  looked  on, 
and  talked  together  in  low  tones,  and  grinned. 

Irish  glanced  that  way  and  caught  them  grin 
ning;  caught  them  pointing  derisively,  with  heav 
ing  shoulders.  He  swore  a  great  oath  and  made 
for  them,  calling  aloud  that  he  would  knock  those 
grins  so  far  in  that  they  would  presently  find  them 
selves  smiling  wrong-side-out  from  the  back  of 
their  heads. 

Pink,  overhearing  him,  gave  a  last  swat  at  the 
waggling  tail  of  a  burrowing  buck,  and  wheeled 
to  overtake  Irish  and  have  a  hand  in  reversing  the 
grins.  Big  Medicine  saw  them  start,  and  came  bel- 

220 


Flying    U    Ranch 

lowing  up  from  the  far  side  of  the  huddle  like  a 
bull  challenging  to  combat  from  across  a  meadow. 
Big  Medicine  did  not  know  what  it  was  all  about, 
but  he  scented  battle,  and  that  was  sufficient.  Cal 
Emmett  and  Weary,  equally  ignorant  of  the  cause, 
started  at  a  lope  toward  the  trouble  center. 

It  began  to  look  as  if  the  whole  Family  was 
about  to  fall  upon  those  herders  and  rend  them 
asunder  with  teeth  and  nails;  so  much  so  that  the 
herders  jumped  up  and  ran  like  scared  cottontails 
toward  the  rim  of  Denson  coulee,  a  hundred  yards 
or  so  to  the  west. 

"Mamma!  I  wish  we  could  make  the  sheep  hit 
that  gait  and  keep  it/'  exclaimed  Weary,  with  the 
first  laugh  they  had  heard  from  him  that  day. 

While  he  was  still  laughing,  there  was  a  shot 
from  the  ridge  toward  which  they  were  running; 
the  sharp,  vicious  crack  of  a  rifle.  The  Happy 
Family  heard  the  whistling  hum  of  the  bullet, 
singing  low  over  their  heads;  quite  low  indeed; 
altogether  too  low  to  be  funny.  And  they  had 

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Flying    U     Ranch 

squandered  all  their  ammunition  on  the  prairie  sod, 
to  hurry  a  band  of  sheep  that  flatly  refused  to 
hurry  anywhere — except  under  one  another's  od 
orous,  perspiring  bodies. 

From  the  edge  of  the  coulee  the  rifle  spoke 
again.  A  tiny  geyser  of  dust,  spurting  up  from  the 
ground  ten  feet  to  one  side  of  Cal  Emmett,  showed 
them  all  where  the  bullet  struck. 

"Get  outa  range,  everybody !"  yelled  Weary,  and 
set  the  example  by  tilting  his  rowels  against 
Glory's  smooth  hide,  and  heading  eastward.  "I 
like  to  be  accommodating,  all  right,  but  I  draw  the 
line  on  standing  around  for  a  target  while  my 
neighbors  practise  shooting." 

The  Happy  Family,  having  no  other  recourse, 
therefore  retreated  in  haste  toward  the  eastern  sky 
line.  Bullets  followed  them,  overtook  them  as  the 
shooter  raised  his  sights  for  the  increasing  dis 
tance,  and  whined  harmlessly  over  their  heads.  All 
save  one. 


222 


CHAPTER   XIV 
Happy  Jack 

Big  Medicine,  Irish  and  Pink,  racing  almost 
abreast,  heard  a  scream  behind  them  and  pulled 
up  their  horses  with  short,  stiff-legged  plunges.  A 
brown  horse  overtook  them;  a  brown  horse,  with 
Happy  Jack  clinging  to  the  saddle-horn,  his  body 
swaying  far  over  to  one  side.  Even  as  he  went 
hurtling  past  them  his  hold  grew  slack  and  he 
slumped,  head  foremost,  to  the  ground.  The 
brown  horse  gave  a  startled  leap  away  from  him 
and  went  on  with  empty  stirrups  flapping. 

They  sprang  down  and  lifted  him  to  a  less  awk 
ward  position,  and  Big  Medicine  pillowed  the 
sweat-dampened,  carroty  head  in  the  hollow  of  his 
arm.  Those  who  had  been  in  the  lead  looked  back 
startled  when  the  brown  horse  tore  past  them  with 
that  empty  saddle;  saw  what  had  happened, 

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Flying    U    Ranch 

wheeled  and  galloped  back.  They  dismounted  and 
stood  silently  grouped  about  poor,  ungainly  Happy 
Jack,  lying  there  limp  and  motionless  in  Big  Med 
icine's  arms.  Not  one  of  them  remembered  then 
that  there  was  a  man  with  a  rifle  not  more  than 
two  hundred  yards  away;  or,  if  they  did,  they  quite 
forgot  that  the  rifle  might  be  dangerous  to  them 
selves.  They  were  thinking  of  Happy  Jack. 

Happy  Jack,  butt  of  all  their  jokes  and  jibes; 
Happy  the  croaker,  the  lugubrious  forecaster  of 
trouble;  Happy  Jack,  the  ugliest,  the  stupidest,  the 
softest-hearted  man  of  them  all.  He  had  "betched" 
there  would  be  someone  killed,  over  these  Dot 
sheep;  he  had  predicted  trouble  of  every  conceiva 
ble  kind;  and  they  had  laughed  at  him,  swore  at 
him,  lied  to  him,  "joshed"  him  unmercifully,  and 
kept  him  in  a  state  of  chronic  indignation,  never 
dreaming  that  the  memory  of  it  would  choke  them 
and  strike  them  dumb  with  that  horrible,  dull 
weight  in  their  chests  with  which  men  suffer  when 
a  woman  would  find  the  relief  of  weeping. 

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Flying    U    Ranch 

"Where's  he  hurt?"  asked  Weary,  in  the  re 
pressed  tone  which  only  tragedy  can  bring  into  a 
man's  voice,  and  knelt  beside  Big  Medicine. 

"I  dunno — through  the  lungs,  I  guess;  my 
sleeve's  gitting  soppy  right  under  his  shoulder." 
Big  Medicine  did  not  bellow ;  his  voice  was  as  quiet 
as  Weary's. 

Weary  looked  up  briefly  at  the  circle  of  staring 
faces.  "Pink,  you  pile  onto  Glory  and  go  wire  for 
a  doctor.  Try  Havre  first;  you  may  get  one  up 
on  the  nine  o'clock  train.  If  you  can't,  get  one 
down  on  the  'leven-twenty,  from  Great  Falls.  Or 
there's  Benton — anyway,  git  one.  If  you  could 
catch  MacPherson,  do  it.  Try  him  first,  and  never 
mind  a  Havre  doctor  unless  you  can't  get  Mac 
Pherson.  I'd  rather  wait  a  couple  of  hours  longer, 
for  him.  I'll  have  a  rig — no,  you  better  get  a  team 
from  Jim.  They'll  be  fresh,  and  you  can  put  'em 
through.  If  you  kill  'em,"  he  added  grimly,  "we 
can  pay  for  'em."  He  had  his  jack-knife  out,  and 

225 


Flying    U     Ranch 

was  already  slashing  carefully  the  shirt  of  Happy 
Jack,  that  he  might  inspect  the  wound. 

Pink  gave  a  last,  wistful  look  at  Happy  Jack's 
face,  which  seemed  unfamiliar  with  all  the  color 
and  all  the  expression  wiped  out  of  it  like  that,  and 
turned  away.  "Come  and  help  me  change  saddles, 
Cal,"  he  said  shortly.  "Weary's  stirrups  are  too 
darned  long."  Even  with  the  delay,  he  was 
mounted  on  Glory  and  galloping  toward  Flying  U 
coulee  before  Weary  was  through  uncovering  the 
wound;  and  that  does  not  mean  that  Weary  was 
slow. 

The  rifle  cracked  again,  and  a  bullet  plucked 
into  the  sod  twenty  feet  beyond  the  circle  of  men 
and  horses.  But  no  one  looked  up  or  gave  any 
other  sign  of  realization  that  they  were  still  the 
target;  they  were  staring,  with  that  frowning 
painfully  intent  look  men  have  at  such  moments,  at 
a  purplish  hole  not  much  bigger  than  if  punched 
by  a  lead  pencil,  just  under  the  point  of  Happy 
Jack's  shoulder  blade;  and  at  the  blood  oozing 

226 


Flying    U    Ranch 

sluggishly  from  it  in  a  tiny  stream  across  the 
girlishly  white  flesh  and  dripping  upon  Big  Medi 
cine's  arm. 

"Hadn't  we  better  get  a  rig  to  take  him  home 
with?"  Irish  suggested. 

Weary,  exploring  farther,  had  just  disclosed  a 
ragged  wound  under  the  arm  where  the  bullet  had 
passed  out;  he  made  no  immediate  reply. 

"Well,  he  ain't  got  it  stuck  inside  of  'im,  any 
way,"  Big  Medicine  commented  relievedly.  "Don't 
look  to  me  like  it's  so  awful  bad — went  through 
kinda  anglin',  and  maybe  missed  his  lungs.  I've 
saw  men  shot  up  before — 

"Aw — I  betche  you'd — think  it  wag  bad — if  you 
had  it "  murmured  Happy  Jack  peevishly,  lift 
ing  his  eyelids  heavily  for  a  resentful  glance  when 
they  moved  him  a  little.  But  even  as  Big  Medicine 
grinned  joyfully  down  at  him  he  went  off  again 
into  mental  darkness,  and  the  grin  faded  into  so 
licitude. 

"You'd  kick,  by  golly,  if  you  was  goin'  to  be 
227 


Flying    U    Ranch 

hung,"  Slim  bantered  tritely  and  belatedly,  and 
gulped  remorsefully  when  he  saw  that  he  was 
"joshing"  an  unconscious  man. 

"We  better  get  him  home.  Irish,  you " 

Weary  looked  up  and  discovered  that  Irish  and 
Jack  Bates  were  already  headed  for  home  and  a 
conveyance.  He  gave  a  sigh  of  approval  and 
turned  his  attention  toward  wiping  the  sweat  and 
grime  from  Happy's  face  with  his  handkerchief. 

"Somebody  else  is  goin'  to  git  hit,  by  golly,  if 
we  stay  here,"  Slim  blurted  suddenly,  when  an 
other  bullet  dug  up  the  dirt  in  that  vicinity. 

"That  gol-darned  fool  '11  keep  on  till  he  kills 
somebody.  I  wisht  I  had  m'  thirty-thirty  here — 
I'd  make  him  wisht  his  mother  was  a  man,  by 
golly!" 

Big  Medicine  looked  toward  the  coulee  rim.  "I 
ain't  got  a  shell  left,"  he  growled  regretfully.  "I 
wisht  we'd  thought  to  tell  the  boys  to  bring  them 
rifles.  Say,  Slim,  you  crawl  onto  your  hoss  and 

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Flying    U    Ranch 

go  git  'em.  It  won't  take  more'n  a  minute. 
There'll  likely  be  some  shells  in  the  magazines." 

"Go  on,  Slim,"  urged  Weary  grimly.  "We've 
got  to  do  something.  They  can't  do  a  thing  like 
this — "he  glanced  down  at  Happy  Jack — "and 
get  away  with  it." 

"I  got  half  a  box  uh  shells  for  my  thirty-thirty, 
I'll  bring  that."  Slim  turned  to  go,  stopped  short 
and  stared  at  the  coulee  rim.  "By  golly,  they're 
comin'  over  here!"  he  exclaimed. 

Big  Medicine  glanced  up,  took  off  his  hat, 
crumpled  it  for  a  pillow  and  eased  Happy  Jack 
down  upon  it.  He  got  up  stiffly,  wiped  his  fingers 
mechanically  upon  his  trouser  legs,  broke  his  gun 
open  just  to  make  sure  that  it  was  indeed  empty, 
put  it  back  and  picked  up  a  handful  of  rocks. 

"Let  'em  come,"  he  said  viciously.  "I  c'n  kill 
every  damn'  one  with  m'  bare  hands!" 


229 


CHAPTER   XV 
Oleson 

"Say,  ain't  that  Andy  and  Mig  following  along 
behind?"  Cal  asked  after  a  minute  of  watching  the 
approach.  "Sure,  it  is.  Now  what " 

"They're  drivin'  'em,  by  cripes!"  Big  Medicine, 
under  the  stress  of  the  moment,  returned  to  his 
usual  bellowing  tone.  "Who's  that  tall,  lanky  fel 
ler  in  the  lead?  I  don't  call  to  mind  ever  seein' 
him  before.  Them  four  herders  I'd  know  a  mile 
off." 

"That?"  Weary  shaded  his  eyes  with  his  hat- 
brim,  against  the  slant  rays  of  the  westering  sun. 
"That's  Oleson,  Dunk's  partner." 

"His  mother'd  be  a-weepin',"  Big  Medicine  ob 
served  bodefully,  "if  she  knowed  what  was  due 
to  happen  to  her  son  right  away  quick.  Must  be 
him  that  done  the  shootin'." 

230 


Flying    U    Ranch 

They  came  on  steadily,  the  four  herders  and 
Oleson  walking  reluctantly  ahead,  with  Andy 
Green  and  the  Native  Son  riding  relentlessly  in 
the  rear,  their  guns  held  unwaveringly  in  a  line 
with  the  backs  of  their  captives.  Andy  was  carry 
ing  a  rifle,  evidently  taken  from  one  of  the  men — 
Oleson,  they  judged  for  the  guilty  one.  Half  the 
distance  was  covered  when  Andy  was  seen  to  turn 
his  head  and  speak  briefly  with  the  Native  Son, 
after  which  he  lunged  past  the  captives  and  gal 
loped  up  to  the  waiting  group.  His  quick  eye 
sought  first  the  face  of  Happy  Jack  in  anxious  ques 
tioning;  then,  miserably,  he  searched  the  faces  of 
his  friends. 

"Good  Lord !"  he  exclaimed  mechanically,  dis 
mounted  and  bent  over  the  figure  on  the  ground. 
For  a  long  minute  he  knelt  there;  he  laid  his  ear 
close  to  Happy  Jack's  mouth,  took  off  his  glove 
and  laid  his  hand  over  Happy's  heart;  reached  up, 
twitched  off  his  neckerchief,  shook  out  the  creases 
and  spread  it  reverently  over  Happy  Jack's  face. 

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Flying    U    Ranch 

He  stood  up  then  and  spoke  slowly,  his  eyes  fixed 
upon  the  stumbling  approach  of  the  captives. 

"Pink  told  us  Happy  had  been  shot,  so  we  rode 
around  and  come  up  behind  'em.  It  was  a  cinch. 
And — say,  boys,  we've  got  the  Dots  in  a  pocket. 
They've  got  to  eat  outa  our  hands,  now.  So  don't 

think  about — our  own  feelings,  or  about "  he 

stopped  abruptly  and  let  a  downward  glance  fin 
ish  the  sentence.  "We've  got  to  keep  our  own 
hands  clean,  and — now  don't  let  your  fingers  get 
the  itch,  Bud!"  This,  because  of  certain  mani 
festations  of  a  murderous  intent  on  the  part  of 
Big  Medicine. 

"Oh,  it's  all  right  to  talk,  if  yuh  feel  like  talk 
ing,"  Big  Medicine  retorted  savagely.  "I  don't." 
He  made  a  catlike  spring  at  the  foremost  man, 
who  happened  to  be  Oleson,  and  got  a  merciless 
grip  with  his  fingers  on  his  throat,  snarling  like 
a  predatory  animal  over  its  kill.  From  behind, 
Andy,  with  Weary  to  help,  pulled  him  off. 

"I  didn't  mean  to — to  kill  anybody,"  gasped 
232 


Flying    U    Ranch 

Oleson,  pasty  white.  "I  heard  a  lot  of  shooting, 
and  so  I  ran  up  the  hill — and  the  herders  came 
running  toward  me,  and  I  thought  I  was  defend 
ing  my  property  and  men.  I  had  a  right  to  de 
fend " 

"Defend  hell!"  Big  Medicine  writhed  in  the  re 
straining  grasp  of  those  who  held  him.  "Look 
at  that  there!  As  good  hearted  a  boy  as  ever 
turned  a  cow!  Never  harmed  a  soul  in  'is  life. 
Is  all  your  dirty,  stinkin'  sheep,  an'  all  your  lousy 
herders,  worth  that  boy's  life?  Yuh  shot  'im  down 
like  a  dog — lemme  go,  boys."  His  voice  was 
husky.  "Lemme  tromp  the  life  outa  him." 

"I  thought  you  were  killing  my  men,  or  I  never 
— I  never  meant  to — to  kill "  Oleson,  shak 
ing  till  he  could  scarcely  stand,  broke  down  and 
wept;  wept  pitiably,  hysterically,  as  men  of  a  cer 
tain  fiber  will  weep  when  black  tragedy  confronts 
them  all  unawares.  He  cowered  miserably  before 
the  Happy  Family,  his  face  hidden  behind  his  two 
hands. 

233 


Flying    U     Ranch 

"Boys,  I  want  to  say  a  word  or  two.  Come 
over  here."  Andy's  voice,  quiet  as  ever,  con 
trasted  strangely  with  the  man's  sobbing.  He  led 
them  back  a  few  paces — Weary,  Cal,  Big  Medi 
cine  and  Slim,  and  spoke  hurriedly.  The  Native 
Son  eyed  them  sidelong  from  his  horse,  but  he 
was  careful  to  keep  Oleson  covered  with  his  gun 
— and  the  herders  too,  although  they  were  un 
armed.  Once  or  twice  he  glanced  at  that  long, 
ungainly  figure  in  the  grass  with  the  handkerchief 
of  Andy  Green  hiding  the  face  except  where  a 
corner,  fluttering  in  the  faint  breeze  which  came 
creeping  out  of  the  west,  lifted  now  and  then  and 
gave  a  glimpse  of  sunbrowned  throat  and  a  quiet 
chin  and  mouth. 

"Quit  that  blubbering,  Oleson,  and  listen  here." 
Andy's  voice  broke  relentlessly  upon  the  other's 
woe.  "All  these  boys  want  to  hang  yuh  without 
any  red  tape;  far  as  I'm  concerned,  I'm  dead  will 
ing.  But  we're  going  to  give  yuh  a  chance.  Your 
partner,  as  we  told  yuh  coming  over,  we've  got 

234 


Flying    U    Ranch 

the  dead  immortal  cinch  on,  right  now.  And — 
well  you  can  see  what  you're  up  against.  But  we'll 
give  yuh  a  chance.  Have  you  got  any  family?" 

Oleson,  trying  to  pull  himself  together,  shook 
his  head. 

"Well,  then,  you  can  get  rid  of  them  sheep,  can't 
yuh?  Sell  'em,  ship  'em  outa  here — we  don't  give 
a  darn  what  yuh  do,  only  so  yuh  get  'em  off  the 
range." 

"Y-yes,  I'll  do  that."  Oleson's  consent  was  re 
luctant,  but  it  was  fairly  prompt.  "I'll  get  rid  of 
the  sheep,"  he  said,  as  if  he  was  minded  to  clinch 
the  promise.  "I'll  do  it  at  once." 

"That's  nice."  Andy  spoke  with  grim  irony. 
"And  you'll  get  rid  of  the  ranch,  too.  You'll  sell 
it  to  the  Flying  U — cheap." 

"But  my  partner — Whittaker  might  object " 

"Look  here,  old-timer.  You'll  fix  that  part  up; 
you'll  find  a  way  of  fixing  it.  Look  here — at  what 
you're  up  against."  He  waited,  with  pointing 

235 


Flying    U    Ranch 

finger,  for  one  terrible  minute.  "Will  you  sell  to 
the  Flying  U?" 

"Y-yes!"  The  word  was  really  a  gulp.  He 
tried  to  avoid  looking  where  Andy  pointed;  failed, 
and  shuddered  at  what  he  saw. 

"I  thought  you  would.  We'll  get  that  in  writ 
ing.  And  we're  going  to  wait  just  exactly  twenty- 
four  hours  before  we  make  a  move.  It'll  take 
some  fine  work,  but  we'll  do  it.  Our  boss,  here, 
will  fix  up  the  business  end  with  you.  He'll  go 
with  yuh  right  now,  and  stay  with  yuh  till  you 
make  good.  And  the  first  crooked  move  you 

make "  Andy,  in  unconscious  imitation  of  the 

Native  Son,  shrugged  a  shoulder  expressively  and 
urged  Weary  by  a  glance  to  take  the  leadership. 

"Irish,  you  come  with  me.  The  rest  of  you  fel 
lows  know  about  what  to  do.  Andy,  I  guess  you'll 
have  to  ride  point  till  I  get  back."  Weary  hesi 
tated,  looked  from  Happy  Jack  to  Oleson  and  the 
herders,  and  back  to  the  sober  faces  of  his  fel 
lows.  "Do  what  you  can  for  him,  boys — and  I 

236 


Flying    U    Ranch 

wish  one  of  you  would  ride  over,  after  Pink  gets 
back,  and — let  me  know  how  things  stack  up,  will 
you?" 

Incredible  as  was  the  situation  on  the  face  of  it, 
nevertheless  it  was  extremely  matter-of-fact  in  the 
handling;  which  is  the  way  sometimes  with  in 
credible  situations ;  as  if,  since  we  know  instinc 
tively  that  we  cannot  rise  unprepared  to  the  big 
ness  of  its  possibilities,  we  keep  our  feet  planted 
steadfastly  on  the  ground  and  refuse  to  rise  at  all. 
And  afterward,  perhaps,  we  look  back  and  won 
der  how  it  all  came  about. 

At  the  last  moment  Weary  turned  back  and 
exchanged  guns  with  Andy  Green,  because  his 
own  was  empty  and  he  realized  the  possible  need 
of  one — or  at  least  the  need  of  having  the  sheep 
men  perfectly  aware  that  he  had  one  ready  for 
use.  The  Native  Son,  without  a  word  of  com 
ment,  handed  his  own  silver-trimmed  weapon  over 
to  Irish,  and  rolled  a  cigarette  deftly  with  one 
hand  while  he  watched  them  ride  away. 

237 


Flying    U    Ranch 

"Does  this  strike  anybody  else  as  being  pretty 
raw?"  he  inquired  calmly,  dismounting  among 
them.  "I'd  do  a  good  deal  for  the  outfit,  myself; 

but  letting  that  man  get  off Say,  you  fellows 

up  this  way  don't  think  killing  a  man  amounts  to 
much,  do  you?"  He  looked  from  one  to  the  other 
with  a  queer,  contemptuous  hostility  in  his  eyes. 

Andy  Green  took  a  forward  step  and  laid  a  hand 
familiarly  on  his  rigid  shoulder.  "Quit  it,  Mig. 
We  would  do  a  lot  for  the  outfit;  that's  the  God's 
truth.  And  I  played  the  game  right  up  to  the  hilt, 
I  admit.  But  nobody's  killed.  I  told  Happy  to 
play  dead.  By  gracious,  I  caught  him  just  in  the 
nick  uh  time;  he'd  been  setting  up,  in  another  min 
ute."  To  prove  it,  he  bent  and  twitched  the  hand 
kerchief  from  the  face  of  Happy  Jack,  and  Happy 
opened  his  eyes  and  made  shift  to  growl. 

"Yuri  purty  near — smothered  me  t'death,  darn 
yuh." 

"Dios!"  breathed  the  Native  Son,  for  once  since 
238 


Flying    U     Ranch 

they  knew  him  jolted  out  of  his  eternal  calm. 
"God,  but  I'm  glad!" 

"I  guess  the  rest  of  us  ain't,"  insinuated  Andy 
softly,  and  lifted  his  hat  to  wipe  the  sweat  off 

his  forehead.  "I  will  say  that "  After  all, 

he  did  not.  Instead,  he  knelt  beside  Happy  Jack 
and  painstakingly  adjusted  the  crumpled  hat  a 
hair's  breadth  differently. 

"How  do  yuh  feel,  old-timer?"  he  asked  with 
a  very  thin  disguise  of  cheerfulness  upon  the  anx 
iety  of  his  tone. 

"Well,  I  could  feel  a  lot — better,  without  hurtin' 
nothin,"  Happy  Jack  responded  somberly.  "I  hope 
you  fellers — feel  better,  now.  Yuh  got  'em — 
try  in'  to  murder — the  hull  outfit;  jes'  like  I — told 

yuh  they  would "  Gunshot  wounds,  contrary 

to  the  tales  of  certain  sentimentalists,  do  not  ap 
preciably  sweeten,  or  even  change,  a  man's  dis 
position.  Happy  Jack  with  a  bullet  hole  through 
one  side  of  him  was  still  Happy  Jack. 

"Aw,  quit  your  beefin',"  Big  Medicine  advised 
239 


Flying    U     Ranch 

gruffly.  "A  feller  with  a  hole  in  his  lung  yuh 
could  throw  a  calf  through  sideways  ain't  got 
no  business  statin'  his  views  on  nothing  by  cripes !" 

"Aw  gwan.  I  thought  you  said — it  didn't 
amount  t'  nothin'/'  Happy  reminded  him,  anxiety 
stealing  into  his  face. 

"Well,  it  don't.  May  lay  yuh  up  a  day  or  two; 
wouldn't  be  su'prised  if  yuh  had  to  stay  on  the 
bed-ground  two  or  three  meals.  But  look  at  Slim, 
here.  Shot  through  the  leg — shattered  a  bone,  by 
cripes! — las'  night,  only;  and  here  he's  makin'  a 
hand  and  rid  in'  and  cussin'  same  as  any  of  us  t' 
day.  We  ain't  goin'  to  let  yuh  grouch  around, 
that's  all.  We  claim  we  got  a  vacation  comin'  to 
us;  you're  shot  up,  now,  and  that's  fun  enough 
for  one  man,  without  throwin'  it  into  the  whole 
bunch.  Why,  a  little  nick  like  that  ain't  nothin'; 
nothin'  a-tall.  Why,  I've  been  shot  right  through 
here,  by  cripes" — Big  Medicine  laid  an  impressive 
finger-tip  on  the  top  button  of  his  trousers — "and 
it  come  out  back  here" — he  whirled  and  showed 

240 


Flying    U    Ranch 

his  thumb  against  the  small  of  his  back — "and  I 
never  laid  off  but  that  day  and  part  uh  the  next. 
I  was  sore,"  he  admitted,  goggling  Happy  Jack 
earnestly,  "but  I  kep'  a-goin'.  I  was  right  in  fall 
roundup,  an'  I  had  to.  A  man  can't  lay  down  an' 
cry,  by  cripes,  jes'  because  he  gets  pinked  a  lit 
tle " 

"Aw,  that's  jest  because — it  ain't  you.  I  betche 
you'd  lay  'em  down — jest  like  other  folks,  if  yuh 
got  shot — through  the  lungs.  That  ain't  no — joke, 
lemme  tell  yuh!"  Happy  Jack  was  beginning  to 
show  considerable  spirit  for  a  wounded  man.  So 
much  spirit  that  Andy  Green,  who  had  seen  men 
stricken  down  with  various  ills,  read  fever  signs  in 
the  countenance  and  in  the  voice  of  Happy,  and 
led  Big  Medicine  somewhat  peremptorily  out  of 
ear-shot. 

"Ain't  you  got  any  sense?"  he  inquired  with  fine 
candor.  "What  do  you  want  to  throw  it  into  him 
like  that,  for?  You  may  not  think  so,  but  he's 
pretty  bad  off — if  you  ask  me." 

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Flying    U    Ranch 

Big  Medicine's  pale  eyes  turned  commiseratingly 
toward  Happy  Jack.  "I  know  he  is;  I  ain't  no 
fool.  I  was  jest  tryin'  to  cheer  'im  up  a  little.  He 
was  beginnin'  to  look  like  he  was  gittin'  scared 
about  it;  I  reckon  maybe  I  made  a  break,  sayin' 
what  I  did  about  it,  so  I  jest  wanted  to  take  the 
cuss  off.  Honest  to  gran'ma " 

"If  you  know  anything  at  all  about  such  things, 
you  must  know  what  fever  means  in  such  a  case. 
And,  recollect,  it's  going  to  be  quite  a  while  be 
fore  a  doctor  can  get  here." 

"Oh,  I'll  be  careful.  Maybe  I  did  throw  it 
purty  strong;  I  won't,  no  more."  Big  Medicine's 
meekness  was  not  the  least  amazing  incident  of 
the  day.  He  was  a  big-hearted  soul  under  his 
bellow  and  bluff,  and  his  sympathy  for  Happy 
Jack  struck  deep.  He  went  back  walking  on  his 
toes,  and  he  stood  so  that  his  sturdy  body  shaded 
Happy  Jack's  face  from  the  sun,  and  he  did  not 
open  his  mouth  for  another  word  until  Irish  and 
Jack  Bates  came  rattling  up  with  the  spring  wagon 

242 


Flying    U    Ranch 

hurriedly  transformed  with  mattress,  pillows  and 
blankets  into  an  ambulance. 

They  had  been  thoughtful  to  a  degree.  They 
brought  with  them  a  jug  of  water  and  a  tin  cup, 
and  they  gave  Happy  Jack  a  long,  cooling  drink 
of  it  and  bathed  his  face  before  they  lifted  him 
into  the  wagon.  And  of  all  the  hands  that  min 
istered  to  his  needs,  the  hands  of  Big  Medicine 
were  the  eagerest  and  gentlest,  and  his  voice  was 
the  most  vibrant  with  sympathy ;  which  was  saying 
a  good  deal. 


243 


CHAPTER   XVI 
The  End  of  the  Dots 

Slim  may  not  have  been  more  curious  than  his 
fellows,  but  he  was  perhaps  more  single-hearted 
in  his  loyalty  to  the  outfit.  To  him  the  shooting 
of  Happy  Jack,  once  he  felt  assured  that  the 
wound  was  not  necessarily  fatal,  became  of  sec 
ondary  importance.  It  was  all  in  behalf  of  the 
Flying  U;  and  if  the  bullet  which  laid  Happy  Jack 
upon  the  ground  was  also  the  means  of  driving 
the  hated  Dots  from  that  neighborhood,  he  felt, 
in  his  slow,  phlegmatic  way,  that  it  wasn't  such 
a  catastrophe  as  some  of  the  others  seemed  to 
think.  Of  course,  he  wouldn't  want  Happy  to 
die;  but  he  didn't  believe,  after  all,  that  Happy 
was  going  to  do  anything  like  that.  Old  Patsy 
knew  a  lot  about  sickness  and  wounds.  (Who  can 
cook  for  a  cattle  outfit,  for  twenty  years  and  more, 

244 


Flying    U    Ranch 

and  not  know  a  good  deal  of  hurts?)  Old  Patsy 
had  looked  Happy  over  carefully,  and  had  given 
a  grin  and  a  snort. 

"Py  cosh,  dot  vos  lucky  for  you,  alreatty,"  he 
had  pronounced.  "So  you  don't  git  plood-poison- 
ings,  mit  fever,  you  be  all  right  pretty  soon.  You 
go  to  shleep,  yet.  I  fix  you  oop  till  der  dochtor 
he  cooms.  I  seen  fellers  shot  plumb  through  der 
middle  off  dem,  und  git  veil.  You  ain't  shot  so 
bad.  You  go  to  shleep." 

So,  his  immediate  fears  relieved,  Slim's  slow 
mind  had  swung  back  to  the  Dots,  and  to  Oleson, 
whom  Weary  was  even  now  assisting  to  keep  his 
promise  (Slim  grinned  widely  to  himself  when  he 
thought  of  the  abject  fear  which  Oleson  had  dis 
played  because  of  the  murder  he  thought  he  had 
done,  while  Happy  Jack  obediently  "played 
dead").  And  of  Dunk,  whom  Slim  had  hated  most 
abominably  of  old;  Dunk,  a  criminal  found  out; 
Dunk,  a  prisoner  right  there  on  the  very  ranch  he 
had  thought  to  despoil;  Dunk,  at  that  very  mo- 

245 


Flying    U    Ranch 

ment  locked  in  the  blacksmith  shop.  Perhaps  it 
was  not  curiosity  alone  which  sent  him  down 
there;  perhaps  it  was  partly  a  desire  to  look  upon 
Dunk  humbled — he  who  had  trodden  so  arrogantly 
upon  the  necks  of  those  below  him;  so  arrogantly 
that  even  Slim,  the  slow-witted  one,  had  many  a 
time  trembled  with  anger  at  his  tone. 

Slim  walked  slowly,  as  was  his  wont;  with 
deadly  directness,  as  was  his  nature.  The  black 
smith  shop  was  silent,  closed — as  grimly  non 
committal  as  a  vault.  You  might  guess  whatever 
you  pleased  about  its  inmate;  it  was  like  trying 
to  imagine  the  emotions  pictured  upon  the  face 
behind  a  smooth,  black  mask.  Slim  stopped  be 
fore  the  closed  door  and  listened.  The  rusty,  iron 
hasp  attracted  his  slow  gaze,  at  first  puzzling  him 
a  little,  making  him  vaguely  aware  that  something 
about  it  did  not  quite  harmonize  with  his  mental 
attitude  toward  it.  It  took  him  a  full  minute  to 
realize  that  he  had  expected  to  find  the  door  locked, 

246 


Flying    U    Ranch 

and  that  the  hasp  hung  downward  uselessly,  just 
as  it  hung  every  day  in  the  year. 

He  remembered  then  that  Andy  had  spoken  of 
chaining  Dunk  to  the  anvil.  That  would  make  it 
unnecessary  to  lock  the  door,  of  course.  Slim 
seized  the  hanging  strip  of  iron,  gave  it  a  jerk  and 
bathed  all  the  dingy  interior  with  a  soft,  sunset 
glow.  Cobwebs  quivered  at  the  inrush  of  the 
breeze,  and  glistened  like  threads  of  fine  gold.  The 
forge  remained  a  dark  blot  in  the  corner.  A  new 
chisel,  lying  upon  the  earthen  floor,  became  a  bar 
of  yellow  light. 

Slitn's  eyes  went  to  the  anvil  and  clung  there  in 
a  widening  stare.  His  hands,  white  and  soft  when 
his  gloves  were  off,  drew  up  convulsively  into  fight 
ing  fists,  and  as  he  stood  looking,  the  cords  swelled 
and  stood  out  upon  his  thick  neck.  For  years  he 
had  hated  Dunk  Whittaker 

The  Happy  Family,  with  rare  good  sense,  had 
not  hesitated  to  turn  the  white  house  into  an  im 
promptu  hospital.  They  knew  that  if  the  Little 

247 


Flying    U     Ranch 

Doctor  and  Chip  and  the  Old  Man  had  been  at 
home  Happy  Jack  would  have  been  taken  unques- 
tioningly  into  the  guest  chamber — which  was  a 
square,  three-windowed  room  off  the  big  living- 
room.  More  than  one  of  them  had  occupied  it 
upon  occasion.  They  took  Happy  Jack  up  there 
and  put  him  to  bed  quite  as  a  matter-of-course, 
and  when  he  was  asleep  they  lingered  upon  the 
wide,  front  porch;  the  hammock  of  the  Little 
Doctor  squeaked  under  the  weight  of  Andy  Green, 
and  the  wide-armed  chairs  received  the  weary 
forms  of  divers  young  cowpunchers  who  did  not 
give  a  thought  to  the  intrusion,  but  were  thankful 
for  the  comfort.  Andy  was  swinging  luxuriously 
and  drawing  the  last  few  puffs  from  a  cigarette 
when  Slim,  purple  and  puffing  audibly,  appeared 
portentously  before  him. 

"I  thought  you  said  you  was  goin'  to  lock  Dunk 
up  in  the  blacksmith  shop,"  he  launched  accusingly 
at  Andy. 

"We  did,"  averred  that  young  man,  pushing  his 
248 


Flying    U     Ranch 

toe  against  the  railing  to  accelerate  the  voluptuous 
motion  of  the  hammock. 

"He  ain't  there.  He's  broke  loose.  The  chain 
— by  golly,  yuh  went  an'  used  that  chain  that  was 
broke  an'  jest  barely  hangin'  together!  His  horse 
ain't  anywheres  around,  either.  You  fellers  make 
me  sick.  Lollin'  around  here  an'  not  paying  no 
attention,  by  golly — he's  liable  to  be  ten  mile  from 
here  by  this  time!"  When  Slim  stopped,  his  jaw 
quivered  like  a  dish  of  disturbed  jelly,  and  I  wish 
I  could  give  you  his  tone;  choppy,  every  sentence 
an  accusation  that  should  have  made  those  fellows 
wince. 

Irish,  Big  Medicine  and  Jack  Bates  had  sprung 
guiltily  to  their  feet  and  started  down  the  steps. 
The  drawling  voice  of  the  Native  Son  stopped 
them,  ten  feet  from  the  porch. 

"Twelve,  or  fifteen,  I  should  make  it.  That 
horse  of  his  looked  to  me  like  a  drifter." 

"Well — are  yuh  goin'  t'  set  there  on  your 
249 


Flying    U    Ranch 

haunches  an'  let  him  GO?"  Slim,  by  the  look  of 
him,  was  ripe  for  murder. 

"You  want  to  look  out,  or  you'll  get  apoplexy 
sure,"  Andy  soothed,  giving  himself  another  lux 
urious  push  and  pulling  the  last,  little  whiff  from 
his  cigarette  before  he  threw  away  the  stub.  "Fat 
men  can't  afford  to  get  as  excited  as  skinny  ones 
can." 

"Aw,  say!  Where  did  you  put  him,  Andy?" 
asked  Big  Medicine,  his  first  flurry  subsiding  be 
fore  the  absolute  calm  of  those  two  on  the  porch. 

"In  the  blacksmith  shop,"  said  Andy,  with  a 
slurring  accent  on  the  first  word  that  made  the 
whole  sentence  perfectly  maddening.  "Ah,  come 
on  back  here  and  sit  down.  I  guess  we  better  tell 
'em  the  how  of  it.  Huh,  Mig?" 

Miguel  cast  a  slow,  humorous  glance  over  the 
four.  "Ye-es — they'll  have  us  treed  in  about  two 
minutes  if  we  don't,"  he  assented.  "Go  ahead." 

"Well,"  Andy  lifted  his  head  and  shoulders  that 
he  might  readjust  a  pillow  to  his  liking,  "we 

250 


Flying    U     Ranch 

wanted  him  to  make  a  getaway.  Fact  is,  if  he 
hadn't,  we'd  have  been — strictly  up  against  it. 
Right!  If  he  hadn't — how  about  it,  Mig?  I  guess 
we'd  have  been  to  the  Little  Rockies  ourselves." 

"You've  got  a  sweet  little  voice,"  Irish  cut  in 
savagely,  "but  we're  tired.  We'd  rather  hear  yuh 
say  something!" 

"Oh— all  right.  Well,  Mig  and  I  just  ribbed  up 
a  josh  on  Dunk.  I'd  read  somewhere  about  the 
same  kinda  deal,  so  it  ain't  original;  I  don't  lay 
any  claim  to  the  idea  at  all;  we  just  borrowed  it. 
You  see,  it's  like  this:  We  figured  that  a  man  as 
mean  as  this  Dunk  person  most  likely  had  stepped 
over  the  line,  somewhere.  So  we  just  took  a  gam 
bling  chance,  and  let  him  do  the  rest.  You  see,  we 
never  saw  him  before  in  our  lives.  All  that  iden 
tification  stunt  of  ours  was  just  a  bluff.  But  the 
minute  I  shoved  my  chips  to  the  center,  I  knew  we 
had  him  dead  to  rights.  You  were  there.  You 

saw  him  wilt.    By  gracious " 

251 


Flying    U    Ranch 

"Yuh  don't  know  anything  against  him?"  gasped 
Irish. 

"Not  a  darned  thing — any  more  than  what  you 
all  know,"  testified  Andy  complacently. 

It  took  a  minute  or  two  for  that  to  sink  in. 

"Well,  I'll  be  damned!"  breathed  Irish. 

"We  did  chain  him  to  the  anvil,"  Andy  went 
on.  "On  the  way  down,  we  talked  about  being  in 
a  hurry  to  get  back  to  you  fellows,  and  I  told  Mig 
— so  Dunk  could  hear — that  we  wouldn't  bother 
with  the  horse.  We  tied  him  to  the  corral.  And 
I  hunted  around  for  that  bum  chain,  and  then  we 
made  out  we  couldn't  find  the  padlock  for  the 
door;  so  we  decided,  right  out  loud,  that  he'd  be 
dead  safe  for  an  hour  or  two,  till  the  bunch  of  us 
got  back.  Not  knowing  a  darn  thing  about  him, 
except  what  you  boys  have  told  us,  we  sure  would 
have  been  in  bad  if  he  hadn't  taken  a  sneak.  Fact 
is,  we  were  kinda  worried  for  fear  he  wouldn't 
have  nerve  enough  to  try  it.  We  waited,  up  on  the 
hill,  till  we  saw  him  sneak  down  to  the  corral  and 

252 


Flying    U    Ranch 

jump  on  his  horse  and  take  off  down  the  coulee 
like  a  scared  coyote.  It  was,"  quoth  the  young  man, 
unmistakably  pleased  with  himself,  "pretty  smooth 
work,  if  you  ask  me." 

"I'd  hate  to  ride  as  fast  and  far  to-night  as 
that  h ombre  will,"  supplemented  Miguel  with  his 
brief  smile,  that  was  just  a  flash  of  white,  even 
teeth  and  a  momentary  lightening  of  his  languor 
ous  eyes. 

Slim  stood  for  five  minutes,  a  stolid,  stocky 
figure  in  the  midst  of  a  storm  of  congratulatory 
comment.  They  forgot  all  about  Happy  Jack, 
asleep  inside  the  house,  and  so  their  voices  were 
not  hushed.  Indeed,  Big  Medicine's  bull-like  re 
marks  boomed  full-throated  across  the  coulee  and 
were  flung  back  mockingly  by  the  barren  hills.  Slim 
did  not  hear  a  word  they  were  saying;  he  was 
thinking  it  over,  with  that  complete  mental  concen 
tration  which  is  the  chief  recompense  of  a  slow- 
working  mind.  He  was  methodically  thinking  it 
all  out — and,  eventually,  he  saw  the  joke. 

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Flying    U    Ranch 

"Well,  by  golly!"  he  bawled  suddenly,  and 
brought  his  palm  down  with  a  terrific  smack  upon 
his  sore  leg — whereat  his  fellows  laughed  uproar 
iously. 

"We  told  you  not  to  try  to  see  through  any  more 
jokes  till  your  leg  gets  well,  Slim,"  Andy  reminded 
condescendingly. 

"Say,  by  golly,  that's  a  good  one  on  Dunk,  ain't 
it?  Chasin'  himself  clean  outa  the  country,  by 
golly — scared  plumb  to  death — and  you  fellers  was 
only  jest  makin'  b'lieve  yuh  knowed  him!  By 
golly,  that  sure  is  a  good  one,  all  right!" 

"You've  got  it;  give  you  time  enough  and  you 
could  see  through  a  barbed-wire  fence,"  patronized 
Andy,  from  the  hammock.  "Yes,  since  you  men 
tion  it,  I  think  myself  it  ain't  so  bad." 

"Aw-w  shut  up,  out  there,  an'  let  a  feller  sleep!" 
came  a  querulous  voice  from  within.  "I'd  ruther 
bed  down  with  a  corral  full  uh  calves  at  weanin' 
time,  than  be  anywheres  within  ten  mile  uh  you 

darned,  mouthy "  The  rest  was  indistinguish- 

254 


Flying    U    Ranch 

able,  but  it  did  not  matter.  The  Happy  Family, 
save  Slim,  who  stayed  to  look  after  the  patient, 
tiptoed  penitently  off  the  porch  and  took  them 
selves  and  their  enthusiasm  down  to  the  bunk- 
house. 


255 


CHAPTER    XVII 

Good  News 

Pink  rolled  over  in  his  bed  so  that  he  might  look 
— however  sleepily — upon  his  fellows,  dressing 
more  or  less  quietly  in  the  cool  dawn-hour. 

"Say,  I  got  a  letter  for  you,  Weary,"  he 
yawned,  stretching  both  arms  above  his  head.  "I 
opened  it  and  read  it;  it  was  from  Chip,  so " 

"What  did  he  have  to  say?" 

"Old  Man  any  better?" 

"How  they  comin',  back  here?" 

Several  voices,  speaking  at  once,  necessitated  a 
delayed  reply. 

"They'll  be  here,  to-day  or  to-morrow,"  Pink 
replied  without  any  circumlocution  whatever,  while 
he  fumbled  in  his  coat  pocket  for  the  letter.  "He 
says  the  Old  Man  wants  to  come,  and  the  doctors 
think  he  might  as  well  tackle  it  as  stay  there 

256 


Flying    U    Ranch 

fussing  over  it.  They're  coming  in  a  special  car, 
and  we've  got  to  rig  up  an  outfit  to  meet  him.  The 
Little  Doctor  tells  just  how  she  wants  things  fixed. 
I  thought  maybe  it  was  important — it  come  special 
delivery,"  Pink  added  naively,  "so  I  just  played  it 
was  mine  and  read  it." 

"That's  all  right,  Cadwalloper,"  Weary  assured 
him  while  he  read  hastily  the  letter.  "Well,  we'll 
fix  up  the  spring  wagon  and  take  it  in  right  away; 
somebody's  got  to  go  back  anyway,  with  MacPher- 
son.  Hello,  Cal;  how's  Happy?" 

"All  right,"  answered  Cal,  who  had  watched 
over  him  during  the  night  and  came  in  at  that  mo 
ment  after  someone  to  take  his  place  in  the  sick 
room.  "Waked  up  on  the  fight  because  I  just  hap 
pened  to  be  setting  with  my  eyes  shut.  I  wasn't 
asleep,  but  he  said  I  was;  claimed  I  snored  so  loud 
I  kept  him  awake  all  night.  Gee  whiz !  I'd  ruther 
nurse  a  she  bear  with  the  mumps!" 

"Old  Man's  coming  home,  Cal."  Pink  an 
nounced  with  more  joy  in  his  tone  and  in  his  face 

257 


Flying    U    Ranch 

than  had  appeared  in  either  far  many  a  weary  day. 

Whereupon  Cal  gave  an  exultant  whoop.  "Go 
tell  that  to  Happy,"  he  shouted.  "Maybe  he'll 
forget  a  grouch  or  two.  Say,  luck  seems  to  be 
kinda  casting  loving  glances  our  way  again — 
what?" 

"By  golly,  seems  to  me  Pink  oughta  told  us 
when  he  come  in,  las'  night,"  grumbled  Slim,  when 
he  could  make  himself  heard. 

"You  were  all  dead  to  the  world,"  Pink  de 
fended,  "and  I  wanted  to  be.  Two  o'clock  in  the 
morning  is  a  mighty  poor  time  for  elegant  con 
versation,  if  you  want  my  opinion." 

"And  the  main  point  is,  you  knew  all  about  it, 
and  you  didn't  give  a  darn  whether  we  did  or  not," 
Irish  said  bluntly.  "And  Weary  sneaked  in,  too, 
and  never  let  a  yip  outa  him  about  things  over  in 
Denson  coulee." 

"Oh,  what  was  the  use?"  asked  Weary  blandly. 
"I  got  an  option  out  of  Oleson  for  the  ranch  and 

258 


Flying    U    Ranch 

outfit,  and  all  his  sheep,  at  a  mighty  good  figure — 
for  the  Flying  U.  The  Old  Man  can  do  what  he 
likes  about  it;  but  ten  to  one  he'll  buy  him  out. 
That  is,  Oleson's  share,  which  was  two-thirds.  I 
kinda  counted  on  Dunk  letting  go  easy.  And,"  he 
added,  reaching  for  his  hat,  "once  I  got  the  papers 
for  it,  there  wasn't  anything  to  hang  around  for, 
was  there?  Especially,"  he  said  with  his  old,  sunny 
smile,  "when  we  weren't  urged  a  whole  lot  to 
stay." 

Remained  therefore  little,  save  the  actual  ar 
rival  of  the  Old  Man — a  pitifully  weak  Old  Man, 
bandaged  and  odorous  with  antiseptics,  and  quite 
pathetically  glad  to  be  back  home — and  his  recov 
ery,  which  was  rather  slow,  and  the  recovery  of 
Happy  Jack,  which  was  rapid. 

For  a  brief  space  the  Flying  U  outfit  owned  the 
Dots;  very  brief  it  was;  not  a  day  longer  than  it 
took  Chip  to  find  a  buyer — at  a  figure  considerably 
above  that  named  in  the  option,  by  the  way. 

259 


Flying    U     Ranch 

So,  after  a  season  of  worry  and  trouble  and  im 
pending  tragedy  such  as  no  man  may  face  unflinch 
ingly,  life  dropped  back  to  its  usual  level,  and  the 
trail  of  the  Flying  U  outfit  once  more  led  through 
pleasant  places. 


THE     END. 


260 


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SJJT 


